Bad Medicine
by Time Traverser
Summary: America's affliction has finally gotten so bad that his family and friends are noticing. When a new enemy picks a very bad time to make his move, they know they have to do something about it before the body count gets any higher...Rated T, but that could change. NO ROMANCE!
1. Chapter 1

_WWII_

 _"_ _Damn Kraut," England grumbled as he futilely pulled at his bonds. "Damn him, damn these chains, damn this blindfold, and_ damn this bloody war _!"_

 _"_ _You're rambling," America warned from directly behind, a shift indicating that they were tied back-to-back. The Western Nation's voice was odd, though…restrained and tinged with something that England couldn't quite identify. Perhaps the reality of their situation was getting to him?_

 _"_ _Well maybe I need to ramble a bit," England said, a little quieter than before. He wriggled his hands restlessly. "Would you just hurry up and snap these chains, already? Quickly, before the guards return. I've been hearing some nasty rumors concerning Nazi prison camps and would rather not be around to confirm them."_

 _No answer. America's form felt completely still against his back, which was alarming because the boisterous young Nation was_ never _so inanimate. "…America?"_

 _After what seemed like an eternity, America suddenly unfroze, exhaling a sharp breath and a muttered swear._

 _The sound of a soldier's boots echoing against stone could be heard in the distance. England released a colorful, sea-touched curse of his own. "I don't know what the Hell is wrong with you but now is_ not _the time to-"_

 _"_ _England."_

 _The Englishman's mouth shut with an audible_ click _. There is was again. That deepened_ tone _that caused England's hackles to rise unpleasantly. It was almost comparable to the growl of a very hungry predator._

 _"_ _Promise me that you won't remove your blindfold."_

 _"_ _Wha-"_

"Promise me," _America insisted, voice still strangely rough. "No matter what you hear."_

 _England found himself nodding nervously, despite the fact that America wouldn't see it. A muffled phrase in German, and the door to their shared cell began to squeak open ominously…_

 _"_ _I-I promise."_

* * *

England lurched up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily.

The old clock on the far wall ticked away the seconds. A mild breeze made the leaves rustle on the tree just outside his window, the moon casting long shadows across the floor.

The island Nation threw his blankets off, swinging his legs over the side and stepping into his slippers. He crossed his drafty bedroom with intent to acquire a glass of water.

After so many years of nightmares, he'd come to be essentially unafraid of them at the moment he inevitably woke up. Usually he could just go straight back to sleep.

But for some reason, this dream lingered, and made him uneasy.

He remembered that day. World War Two, when they'd been captured by Germans and taken to a holding place near the border of France. America hadn't allowed him to remove his blindfold until they were well past the tree line and in the clear.

He also remembered smelling blood.

The unease remained even after he finished his glass. Just when he was considering going for something stronger, the damned phone rang.

He jumped halfway out of his slippers, scowling at the noisy contraption before going to pick it up. The number belonged to none other than America.

"Do you have any idea what time it is, here?" England hissed into the handset.

 _"_ _Sorry, Arthur."_

England's frown intensified. "Canada?"

 _"_ _Yes."_ The mild-mannered blond sounded oddly breathless. _"_ _Listen, Al's cellphone is missing in the White House somewhere, and mine's about to die. Could you help spread the word about the New York meeting being cancelled?"_

"Tell the git to send out an email," England ground out.

There was an odd thump from the other end of the line, and a harsh curse that France probably didn't even know _existed_ in his language. _"_ _His computer's been destroyed in…an accident. I can't get back to mine soon enough to keep people from coming."_

"Why can't he tell me all of this himself?" England demanded. Then he added, "And at a more decent hour?"

 _"_ _He's busy,"_ came the terse answer. There was a soft groan in the background, followed by the sound of glass breaking.

"What in God's name are you _doing_ over there?"

 _"_ _Please just do it."_

 _Click._

England stared at the phone. His aforementioned unease heightened into foreboding.

 _'_ _America probably just went and did something stupid,'_ he tried to reassure himself. _'_ _I'm sure it's fine.'_

If only he could believe that. He went into his garden with one being in mind. A chill wind carried the faint sound of chimes, and one of his closest friends poked her head out of one of his prized rosebushes.

Flying Mint Bunny flew up to land delicately on the porch railing. Her smile was genuine, however confused. "I thought you didn't want to be disturbed when the stars were out."

"Tonight is an exception," England answered.

The faerie blinked. "You're worried about something." She sounded concerned for him.

"Yes…And I need to ask a favor of you," England said. "I'll pay you in pizza."

Whomever it was that had discovered that the Fae had a special love for pizza that bordered on addiction, England wanted to shake his hand. Flying Mint Bunny's ears perked up in excitement. "Of course, England!"

"Somethings happening in North America," England explained. "With the twins. I need you to go to Alfred's house and find out what."

Those ears drooped again, and England despaired. That was never a good sign.

"I'm sorry, England." The gentle faerie's voice was quiet, and afraid. "I can't do that."

"Are the native spirits giving you trouble again?" But he'd thought that mini pseudo-war was over, since their dispute of unexplained origins had been ended through formal peace talks mediated by himself and… _Canada's polar bear_ , of all things.

He hadn't realized the creature was a spirit until that very strange summer solstice. And a formidable one at that.

"No…nothing like that." Flying Mint Bunny shivered, and so England allowed her to snuggle into his arms.

"Then what's scaring you?" England asked gently, stroking her pastel fur.

"There's something…there. Something that should never have reawakened. It's happening more often, now-" The faerie burrowed her head into the folds of his clothes. "-and he can _see_ us."

* * *

 **Alright, so here is the first chapter of the new and improved Bad Medicine. After a long-ass wait on your guys' part, I think I've worked out MOST of the bugs... _God_ , I was an awful writer when I first started this...can only imagine what I'll think of my current stories in the future...**

 **So please tell me what you thought of this first chapter? Pweaaaase?**

 **Later dudes. ^J^**


	2. Chapter 2

Two months.

Two-

 _-bloody-_

-months later, before he got an opportunity to confront the North American brothers about the strange behavior. Canada was being ridiculously vague, and America had hardly answering his phone. To add insult to injury, the meeting was in _France_.

 _"_ _Anglettere~"_

"Not one word from you," England interjected. "At least none directed at or concerning me."

 _"_ _Cassant, mon ami,"_ the Frenchman tutted. "Do you not recall ze little agreement our bosses forced upon us both? To, how do they say it…'play nice'?"

"It'd be much easier to keep my word if you were at the other end of the room." England had no qualms about physically pushing his longtime rival away.

"Hm…" France seemed to stop and study him for a moment. Then he nodded as though satisfied with his diagnosis. "Something is bothering you."

England idly wondered when he'd become so easy to read that anyone could walk up and tell him what he was feeling. It made him almost vulnerable.

France's smile was probably supposed to be comforting, but only succeeded in being slightly less lecherous than usual. "Care to, ah… _confide_ in Big Brother Fra-?"

"Definitely not." England cut him off with a gesture. "Just-leave me alone. For today, at least. There's something I need to do."

France stroked his stubbly chin, unrealistically sparkling blue eyes curious. "…Fine. However I will be _seeing_ you later."

With his promise (threat) made, France pranced off to go molest someone else. England breathed a sigh of relief, and made a mental note to set the bear traps on his property, and wards on his hotel room door.

On the bright side, there'd been pixies flying just outside the windows all day. In fact, the Fae had been especially active around him as of late…As usual they offered no reason for it, so England would simply let it be. And if they 'accidentally' broke some of France's windows or stole his assorted grooming implements, then all the better.

* * *

At lunch, England escaped the room housing the bulk of Europe for this round of meetings, and spotted Canada coming out of the loud, rowdy room that contained most of the North, South, and Central Americas. It sounded like they were still arguing, and most of it was in dialects that England could make neither heads nor tails of.

"How did it go?" England asked out of curiosity.

Canada groaned. "It was _almost_ a civil debate about rainforest conservation. Then someone brought up something about Aztec that was supposed to have happened _years_ ago, and everything went to hell."

England imagined what it would be like to live so close South America, and shuddered. They weren't _all_ bad, of course. But so much color and noise and Spanish was bound to get on his nerves eventually. His own neighbors were bad enough. "Hopefully the G8 meeting tomorrow will go smoother."

"God willing," the northern Nation readily agreed. He glanced back towards the door a bit ruefully. "Alfred ditched early for lunch, though."

 _'_ _Well, there goes waiting by the door.'_ "Any idea where he is?"

Canada was suddenly on guard for some reason. "I couldn't say for sure. Why do you ask?"

England shrugged, and hoped that looked casual. He settled for most of the truth. "He's been rather scarce as of late. I want to ensure for myself that it isn't a looming economic crisis."

"Right." Violet eyes narrowed slightly. Canada didn't seem to believe him entirely. "I'll see you later-Japan is waiting on me."

The island Nation watched his former charge's retreating back with interest and more than a little suspicion. His questions had been innocuous enough. Canada's needlessly evasive replies were…not. It was even more apparent now in person. The uncharacteristic lack of subtlety was rather off-putting.

Canada wasn't an easy person to unnerve to the point of sloppiness. England was liking the situation less and less.

* * *

He ended up spotting America in the small kitchenette, which probably shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did. He'd apparently caught the western Nation by surprise in return, as America stood frozen with and the incriminating evidence of an opened orange pill bottle in his hands.

England pretended not to see it, and cut right to the chase. "Why did you cancel the New York meeting? Not that I'm complaining, of course. One less week with France is a good thing. I'm more concerned with whether I should be worried about something."

"U-uh…" The pill bottle disappeared behind America's back. "Building repairs. And then I was all like, 'This is a great opportunity to extend everyone's downtime!' Because I was incited to this totally awesome Yosemite rock climbing thing that was happening the same week by some California cop buddies of mine. So I cancelled it completely instead of moving it."

"Ah." England had honestly never expected to see such bad acting from the Nation with Hollywood, even caught off-guard. "Then why have you barely answered your phone? Or email? And don't give me any rubbish excuses; I know your brother's been running interference for you."

"Er…"

"And more importantly," England pressed mercilessly, "what are those pills for?"

America's expression abruptly shut down. "None yer business," he snapped. His voice had lowered several decibels, coming closer to a rumbling growl. His larger frame was all the more apparent as his stature went from simply tall to looming in the blink of an eye.

England's mind was thrust back into that one dream that had bothered him so. Because that was the _same voice_ America had used before-…

Before muffled screams and blood, hidden behind metal doors and a blindfold.

The island Nation crossed his arms, resisting the instinct to step back. He glanced out the window. The pixies that'd been following his movements all day were nowhere in sight. "Alfred," he said carefully, "we've talked about your temper."

America twitched as though his words had triggered some sort of reaction, and the voice was gone again. "S-Sorry, I'm kinda tired."

It didn't take a genius to know that something was definitely very wrong. Neither did England need to be clairvoyant to know that the problem wasn't going to go away if he simply ignored it. "Well, perhaps if you didn't play video games until two o'clock in the morning, you'd find yourself with a better night's rest."

"Yeah, maybe," the western Nation laughed weakly. The pill bottle was still hidden behind his back. He shifted uncomfortably. "So…was there something else?"

"No, that is all." Now England did step back, and began to make for the exit. "I'll probably see you tomorrow, because such is my luck."

"You know you crave my awesome," America shot back automatically. It didn't sound quite genuine. From the reflection of a grandiose hall mirror, England could see America turning away, with a little blue pill already on its way to his mouth.

England had the feeling that this situation was only going to get worse. And though he'd never admit it to the Yank's face, this strange behavior actually worried him. A glance to the nearest window showed him that the pixies were back, and that was probably the biggest tip off of all.

 _'_ _They left when I was talking to Alfred, and that was the only time today they weren't there. Which means they're_ avoiding him _._

 _The Fae have found a reason to fear America's presence-this just confirms it, and I'd bet my hat that it has something to do with those blue pills.'_

* * *

 **Yes, yes, I have this other GIGANTIC crossover to update. But the fact is that I have most of the chapters for _Bad Medicine_ pretty much written out already...while _That Which Makes Up The Land_ barely has an outline for the next bits outside of Avatar's canon (which I'm trying to veer away from a bit), and is much harder to write for. So the updates for this story will come out faster.**

 **So thanks to those of you who've followed, faved, and reviewed from the first chapter. It gives me hope. Please review? This is a headcanon I want to address somewhat properly, and I'd love to know what you guys think.**

 **Later dudes. ^J^**


	3. Chapter 3

"Pay attention."

 _Canada's face, completely blank of expression. It blurs and morphs, becoming blotchy with tears and bleeding from the corner of his mouth. Then the entire scene darkens. Suddenly there're trees, nearly bare from the fall. The ground was a mess of dead leaves, roots, and rocks. He knows this place, but can't recall where it is, exactly-_

"Run!"

 _England flees, whispers spurring him forward, further, faster. Because whatever's behind him is so much worse._

"He's coming this way…"

 _England trips, his vision hazy and his ears ringing oddly. He can't run anymore, no matter how the voices pleaded._

"Hurry!"

 _England struggles to get his arms under him. A pair of dark boots emerge from the mist less than a foot from his face. A rusted old harvesting sickle is being dragged along the ground nearby._

"He's here."

 _Almost against his will, his eyes travel up to see the owner's face. A mad smile and strangely familiar spectacles reflecting back down at him are the last things he saw before the sickle arches high above his attacker's head and swoops down to meet England's neck-_

 _"_ _NO!"_ England shot up from his bed, hands flung out to somehow stop that wicked blade from piercing his vulnerable flesh.

A reproduction pastoral painting looked back at him, crème colored walls and plush carpets replacing the forest of twisted old oaks and cedars shrouded in mist.

Never had he been so relieved to wake up in France.

Another intense dream…his subconscious was definitely trying to warn him about something. But what?

And what did it have to do with Canada?

* * *

England spent the entire G8 meeting ignoring the speakers and staring at the North American twins sitting across and far at the other end of the table. They were arranged geographically, today, which meant he was stuck next to their 'generous' host the Disgusting Frog-Face.

"I see your mood has not improved," France sniffed. "If you really want to know what haircare products Mattieu uses then you could simply _ask_ him instead of staring at him like a-"

"Shut your gob," England interrupted, glaring for good measure. "That's not what this is about."

"I'd personally like to know what 'this' thing is that you're talking about," France said. "And just so you know-Canada _notices_ things, and you're not being very discreet about your leering as it is."

England yearned for the days when a blade was common fashion. Just past a century ago he could've declared challenge and run France through just to shut him up for an hour or two. But no, they were reduced to sly remarks. Or worse, their _bare hands_ as guns were not allowed at meetings (he had yet to figure out the trick that America and Switzerland used to sneak them in). Could the modern combat philosophy that favors mobility and brute practicality be truly considered progress, or where they really going backwards? By that logic, a heavy rock could be considered ideal for its sheer utility. Where was the elegance in that? Where was the hundreds of years of _artistry_ and _skill_ that swordsmanship had developed so well?

 _"_ _Anglettere."_

England blinked, abruptly brought back to reality with a witty, "Eh?"

France sighed. "I was only just saying that you are not yourself, and this proves it. You're not fun without focus."

"I'm plenty focused," England scoffed.

"Alright, then you're not fun when you're so obviously focused on only _one thing_." France folded his arms patiently. "What is bothering you, and how is it going to interfere with your love-life?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer," England snapped. His eyes travelled back to the twins. America closed his eyes and reached up to rub his temples with a barely disguised grimace. Canada muttered something in his ear, to which America only nodded. No one else, not even the speaker at the podium, seemed to notice.

"Something's happening with those two," England said lowly. Why he was bothering to confide in _Francis_ of all people, he wouldn't be able to say for sure. He'd never been able to explain the admittedly frequent anomaly. "I've been having premonitions about it, and the Fae are being even vaguer about it than usual."

"Is that so," France said neutrally. He'd never given a definite opinion on the supernatural, and probably wouldn't start now. But at least he didn't laugh in England's face when it was mentioned. "Have you asked them candidly?"

England thought about the previous exchanges they'd had, and realized that no, he'd never directly alluded to it. "I've poked around, and seen some things that indicate a problem of some sort." He hesitated before adding, "But I can't outright tell them I'm having visions about blood on their faces and sickle-wielding maniacs in the middle of the woods. For obvious reasons."

France said nothing for a long while, thinking. It took until the last speaker completed his speech before the Frenchman finally said, "I admire your sudden and uncharacteristic tact. But this doesn't sound like something you should be putting off for too long. Tomorrow, we all go home and you'll have missed your chance to resolve the issue." With that, he stood up as though their hushed conversation had never happened, and ascended to the podium to formally dismiss everyone for the day.

* * *

England stood right outside the hotel room door, hand poised to knock, and then hesitated when his ears caught the faint sound of an argument.

 _"_ _This has been happening too often. I think it's gotten worse."_

 _"_ _Trust me, I know. Do you think I haven't noticed my own animals shying away from me?"_

A beat of tense silence.

 _"_ _Maybe…maybe it's time for you to get help."_

 _The only thing I need is to get back home and talk to Tony. He can make the medicine stronger-"_

 _"_ _Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe that damned medicine is what caused this situation in the first place?"_

 _"_ _That's ridiculous."_

 _"_ _Oh, no? Well I'm the one with the medical degree, and I can tell just by how many attacks you're having that you've built up too much of a tolerance. Eventually, it's just going to stop working entirely."_

 _"_ _It's not like I have much choice in the matter! You put me in a high-security prison and I'll show you exactly where the escape route is. And no one knows nearly enough about this to even begin finding a cure!"_

 _"_ _That's because all of three people know about it! Maybe if we'd just asked for help_ years _ago, things wouldn't have gotten this bad! The others have resources that we don't. For all you know, it's a common thing."_

 _"_ _We would've heard something about it."_

England stepped away from the door with a sigh. He definitely wasn't getting anything out of them, tonight.

 _'_ _Maybe if I can get Canada alone before everyone leaves, tomorrow…'_

Temporarily defeated, he shuffled back to his own room.

* * *

America stared at the cheap painting that hung on the wall, trying to distract himself from all the _interesting_ little ideas he'd been coming up with since returning to the hotel room. For some reason, most of them involved a harvesting scythe.

 _'_ _Swipe, swipe, cut his hamstring. Have your fun, but don't let him run, and take his shiny gold eyetooth...'_

His brother leaned against a wall, watching him.

"Your temper is bad enough under normal circumstances," Canada stated. "But you can hardly control your condition, anymore. People will begin to notice."

America shifted restlessly. "I was afraid of pulling back on it." He was referring to the medication that sat on the shared bedside table between their beds. "With bi-monthly week-long meetings going on all the time, it always seemed like a bad time to try and wean myself off of it."

Canada removed himself from the wall and turned a chair to face the bed America was sitting on. "Well we're going to _make_ time to get you off it." He held up two fingers. "Two uninterrupted months' vacation. _Away_ from people, and _no_ medicine. Just us, fresh air, the mountains, and physical exertion."

America was about to reply, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. He growled softly and began to rise, only to be barred by his twin's arm. "No, Alfred. You stay here. You're not in the best state of mind to deal with people, right now."

The blond Nation huffed and sat back down, his arms crossed tightly as he squashed another unpleasant thought. He looked up sharply when he heard a thump, and saw his brother on the floor, violet eyes fluttering closed. America drew himself up to his full height, and glared down at the attacker, or _attackers_ since there were at least four of them. "I am _not_ in the mood to deal with this crap right now," he snarled.

The tallest attacker shrugged and actually spoke. "Take it up with Mister Crowe." He drew a bulky looking pistol and fired it point-blank into the American several times.

The last thing America saw before the tranquilizer took him, was his brother getting dragged away.

* * *

England was rudely awakened from his first good night's sleep in days by insistent banging on his hotel room door. He sighed, slid off of his comfortable bed, trudged across the cool wooden floor, and opened the door. "Wot d'you wont at this bloody hour?" he grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. As his vision cleared he was able to make out two figures menacing looking figures decked out in black standing before him.

 _'_ _Oh, shite.'_

"You, of course," the shortest one said. Before England had time to react, his silent partner pulled out an odd looking pistol. There was a prick of pain in his neck, and he blacked out _._

* * *

 **Like I said before, this story's all written out. My other ones aren't.**

 **So thank you guys for the wonderful support you've given this early in the fic. Please review and tell me what you think so far?**

 **Later dudes. ^J^**


	4. Chapter 4

_'_ _We_ really _need to find that leak in our security,'_ England reflected sourly. _'_ _Twice in one year is intolerable.'_

Beyond his cell door was a darkened hallway, and what seemed to be another holding cell. Perhaps someone else had been captured, as well?

"Hello? Is someone else here?"

A brief moment of silence followed before Prussia answered from his right. " _Ja._ They caught us by surprise."

Germany grunted in solemn agreement somewhere nearby. Italy's eternally optimistic voice echoed throughout the bleak dungeon, "Ve…But at least we're all together!"

"I wouldn't necessarily call that a bright side," Canada stated drily, inserting himself into the conversation.

"Maybe we've been brought here for experimentation," Prussia offered, making light of their rather bleak situation. He adopted a cheesy narrator's voice. "The _eeeevil_ Docktor Frankenvader is at it again! Muahahahaha!"

One could practically hear Germany's eyes roll as he said, "You've clearly been watching too much television, _bruder_."

Prussia's undoubtedly smartass reply never came, as a rectangle of yellowish light appeared along the ground of the hallway, indicating an opened door.

There were sounds of a struggle; rattling chains and scuffles accompanied by incoherent verbal complaints. England rose from his lumpy cot and went to grip the bars of his cell hopefully. Perhaps someone was here to rescue them and save them the trouble of breaking out on their own? It would make sense, all things considered. _Someone_ had to have noticed that they were missing, by now.

Germany seemed to come to a similar conclusion, if his restless shifting was anything to go by. _"_ _Finally,"_ he could be heard to mutter.

However much to their collective disappointment, it was not a rescue team.

America pulled back on his multiple layers of chain, causing his handlers to stumble. But before he could take advantage of that, another black-clad guard subdued him with an electric cattle prod. This would happen several more times as the loudly protesting Nation was dragged towards the plain metal door at the end of the hall.

"Nonono, you don't understand! I need-" _BZZT!_ "I haven't-" _BZZT!_

The heavy steel door was wrenched open, and America was shoved inside, chains and all. _"_ _I never took my medicine!"_

With that ominously frantic warning, the door was closed and locked with a solid _clunk_. The guards silently departed, leaving the captured Nations in darkness once again.

For the longest moment no one spoke. Then Canada could be heard to let out a quiet curse. _"_ _Oh, Tabernac."_

"England." All playful jesting in Prussia's voice was suddenly gone. "Do you have any dubiously originated tricks up your sleeve that could get us out of here without making noise?"

The English Nation sighed regretfully. "Not in my nightgown, no."

 _"_ _Scheiße."_

"What medicine?" Germany inquired seriously.

"Nothing important," Canada answered a little too quickly. "We're leaving, anyways."

England frowned severely. "Matthew." He adopted the parental warning tone he reserved for misbehaving colonies. "What are you hiding?"

"We can discuss this when we're not in danger," Prussia hissed urgently. "We need to escape, _now_."

"What can a group of deluded humans do to us that hasn't already been tried?" Germany demanded.

"It's not the humans that we're afraid of," Prussia explained vaguely. "Let's just get the hell out of here before-"

The door at the end of the hall opened once again, this time to the sound of a heated conversation that echoed down to them.

 _"_ _I don't care what the boss promises me_ 'in the long term' _, I want my money! Do you have any idea how hard it was to get the German freaks? We nearly lost Alexander!"_

 _"_ _Oh, shut up, Sy,"_ came the twanging retort. _"_ _You'll get what's owed t'ya. Now get down there and check on 'em like you were told."_

 _"_ _I'm not doing_ shit _until I get my money."_

An exasperated sigh. _"_ _Fine, lazy-ass. I'll be right back, so don't lock the door on me."_

Booted footsteps pounded concrete as a relatively short, younger guard started to pass the cells, giving a cursory-yet-methodical inspection to each lock. His stance indicated military. The patch on his arm, however, indicated something else.

 _"_ _Anarchisten,"_ Germany spat, hate evident in his tone.

The man shrugged nonchalantly, indicating that he at least knew some German. "Won't deny it." He moved from Canada's cell to the metal door at the end of the hall. "This 'un was pretty difficult once he woke up, I'll tell ya that." A smile stretched across the guard's face as something seemed to occur to him. "Maybe he's calmed down, by now. We never had a chance to talk." He knocked solidly on the door. "Hey there, asshole! Remember me?"

* * *

America lay in a near-fetal position on the cold concrete floor of his enclosed cell, wrapped in chains and listening to the human's jabs from outside.

"You should'a _seen_ your face when your brother was being dragged away…"

He could feel his muscles spasm in tense anticipation. His body knew what was coming, and had apparently already given in to its inevitability.

"Admittedly, I expected better from my homeland…"

An awful crawling sensation travelling up his spine, making his nerves shiver.

 _Twitch._

First he would break these chains. Then he would destroy the door separating him from his prey.

 _'_ _Turncoat._ _ **Traitor.**_ _Drown him in a bucket of his own blood-'_

The western Nation shivered involuntarily. No; it wouldn't come to that. He had friends out there, most of whom _don't know_. People who shouldn't _have_ to know.

And it wouldn't matter. He would still…America twitched again. England-hadn't he seen England out there?

 _'_ _This would hurt him in more ways than one,'_ America thought frantically. _'_ _I can't let him see me like th-!'_

A rush of heat and irrational rage flooded his senses. His back arched as he began to writhe and struggle against his chains.

 _'_ _How_ **dare** _they lock me up! I'll violate them with their own fingers!'_

America felt his restricting binds begin to stretch and snap, and knew that it was too late.

 _'_ _I'm sorry, everyone.'_

* * *

 _BANG!_

The human jolted, fumbling for his sidearm. "He can't get out," the guard muttered more to himself. "'S impossible."

"I said the same thing, once," Italy informed with that calm sort of cheerfulness that came so naturally to him. "Then I turned around to find him escaping into the trees with a big chunk of concrete chained to his ankle."

 _BANG!_ The door shuddered in its frame, the metal beginning to stress and warp.

"Maybe we're wrong," Prussia began hopefully. "Maybe he's fine."

 _BANG!_ The door suddenly twisted, screeching horribly as it was ripped entirely from its hinges.

The guard's breathing was slow and even, his gun unwavering from the pitch black of America's cell.

A figure dashed out, slamming into the guard before he could even fire a shot. In another blur of motion, he was disarmed and on the ground.

America wordlessly crushed the confiscated pistol like a soda can. He paused to regard his fallen opponent. Then in an uncharacteristic streak of cruelty, stepped on the guard's head and began to slowly apply pressure.

The human gasped in pain, flailing to get better leverage so that he might throw off his tormentor. The American chuckled darkly. He pressed down even harder.

England was appalled at this incredible breach in conduct. "Alfred, stop!"

America's eyes flicked up to meet England's, and the island Nation gasped.

Where there should have been sky blue shining behind wire-framed glasses, England saw only a deep, angry red. These utterly alien irises held an almost lurid gleam to them in the dim light of the hallway.

"Alfred?"

The western Nation's grin was a little too wide at England's undoubtedly stricken expression.

The guard screamed. And then with a sickening _snap_ , he went completely and abruptly limp under the American's boot.

No one else dared to speak as America turned away from the corpse and made his way towards the exit with a predatory sort of lumber. It wasn't until he'd departed, heralding distant yells and erratic gunfire, that Italy released a small whimper of distress. "I think Alfredo is possessed."

England shook himself, deeply disturbed by what he'd just seen. "That was no mere possession. That…was something else entirely."

Canada strained past the bars of his cell, reaching for the dead guard's fallen keys. "That," his fingers looped around the key ring, "was what we were afraid of." He rose and unlocked his own cell before following suit with the others.

Germany put two and two together remarkably fast, and was clearly angry about it. "The medicine he mentioned…Are you telling me that a pill is the only thing keeping America from doing _this_?" He pointed accusingly at the body lying the ground. "Don't you think a secret like that is _too dangerous to keep_?"

"Yes. But I could never get him to agree with me."

"This is what you've been hiding," England realized. "This is why the Fae are avoiding him. I overheard you mention that it was getting worse?"

Canada glanced at him rather sharply. "And how did you come to overhear that?"

"Eavesdropping outside of your hotel room door," England shot back remorselessly. His voice raised several decibels in parental outrage. "And I was right to do so. Why he felt safe in confiding in his drinking partner and not his mentor is absolutely beyond me, but maybe I shouldn't be surprised. Because it seems that _none_ of my former colonies feel like they can trust me when they desperately need help!"

"It's not like that, Arthur-"

"Oh, it's _not_? Then why did he not come to me _before_ any of this happened?!"

"Even _I_ had to find out by fucking accident!" Canada exclaimed, stunning the raging Englishman into silence. The northern Nation took a composing breath before continuing, "Alfred won't talk about it. Ever. And he _won't_ outright tell anyone if he can help it."

"He acts as though the problem doesn't exist," Prussia explained solemnly. "But it's always bubbling under the surface. Even more-so, these past few months. We don't know why."

A panicked scream reverberated from beyond the relatively isolated cellblock. Italy, who'd been very quiet until now, shivered and hugged himself. "Alfredo needs help. He's not…That isn't _him_."

Germany ran an agitated hand through his blond hair, showing his stress. However he'd always been one to address issues immediately rather than hesitate. " _Ja._ He would do the same were our situations reversed." Then he looked to Canada. "Is there a way to snap him out of it without the medicine?"

Canada exhaled slowly. "Once, I managed to bring him back-but that was a long time ago. Since then I've nearly died trying."

"I can subdue him," England declared, gathering himself. "But you may have to carry me out, afterwards. Pacification spells are _exhausting_ when the subject resists. And I don't have my wand, which makes casting it more difficult."

"It is the best we have," Germany nodded. He looked to Italy, concern and fear clouding his usually even expression. " _Italien_ …Too many things can go wrong, and I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'll go get help," the gentler Nation promised, understanding immediately. He bit his lip. "Please be careful, Ludwig."

"I will."

A third scream echoed throughout the place, and Prussia grimaced. "Let's go find us a psycho."

* * *

It didn't take long to find him.

Following a gory trail of both the dead and injured-

 _A man impaled by his own ribs. Another contorted in such a vulgar way that Italy had gagged on his way towards the exit. Two more with their heads forced through the lids of industrial metal drums to drown in an awful cocktail of blood and whatever other substance the containers happened to hold-_

-the four remaining Nations found themselves at an old door with peeling green paint.

"I'm assuming that this is it?" Germany queried a trite uncertainly.

As though to answer his question, a moan of pain came from within, accompanied by much more sinister sound.

Laughter.

England's heart wrenched. This laugh was nothing like Alfred's signature boom. This one was darker, and touched by a madness that he couldn't even begin to understand.

 _'_ _There is_ so _much wrong with this situation. It's like a nightmare.'_

"Don't act nervous," Canada advised. "He's more likely to target you if you act like prey."

"Whatever our resident expert says," England muttered bitterly, his stomach coiling itself into distressed knots.

Prussia took a deep, bracing breath before kicking the flimsy door open. They crowded inside prepared for the worst.

America was there, as expected. He was kneeling in front of the fetal form of a bloodied, shivering man clothed in the tattered remains of an expensive white suit. England assumed this to be none other than the one in charge.

"You haven't screamed," America noted with what could only be described as childish disappointment. "That's not very considerate…but we have plenty of time." He took the anarchist's jaw in his hand, forcing his victim's mouth open and surveying it with the air of a connoisseur. "Hm…" He then gripped the man's knee and began to squeeze.

The human gasped in pain, but bit his tongue to keep from screaming. He glared defiantly at his tormentor.

Red eyes danced with sickening delight at the obvious challenge. His victim's knee began to make alarming cracking sounds. "You _will_ scream for me before this is over. Just wait until I get started on your **_hands_**."

England felt sick. That voice held an odd inflection to it that sent a nervous trill down his spine. He knew America didn't sound like that. Not the one _he'd_ raised. "Stop it, Alfred!"

The American twitched, his eyes flashing blue. For the briefest of moments, it seemed as though Alfred had regained control.

Another twitch, and the anarchist's knee was crushed in his hand, plastering the walls and America's clothing with blood. The criminal finally screamed, his agony ripping through the confined space like nails on a chalkboard. America shivered in perverse pleasure. His scarlet gaze eventually slid over to the horrified group of Nations. Another twitch. "Don't get in my way."

Canada took a careful half-step forward, as though approaching an especially dangerous animal. "Alfred…don't you see how wrong this is?"

Germany and Prussia began maneuvering around the room, moving to catch the blond from behind.

 _Twitch._ "No."

"You're lying."

"…Shut up. Leave."

"We can't leave," England said. "Not until you stop."

"I don't **_want_** to stop," America insisted darkly. He noted that his victim had passed out, and sighed in obvious disappointment. He stood up. "Go away." A full spasm wracked his frame, causing his fists to clench and unclench. His voice raised several notches. "Go away now!"

"Why do you want us to leave so badly?" Canada asked. "We only want to help you."

 _Twitch._ America's expression became oddly conflicted. "I-I'll _hurt_ you. I don't…I-…"

Prussia and Germany chose that moment to grab each of America's arms from behind, wrenching him away from his victim. He began to thrash and struggle violently. **_"_** ** _I WILL EAT YOUR FUCKING HEARTS!"_**

Germany almost lost his hold. "England!"

The former Empire spurred into action, dashing forward and reaching up to touch the crazed Nation's temple. There was a little pulse of gold underneath his fingertip, and America abruptly sagged, his rage suddenly dissipated as he was quickly lulled into a deep sleep.

The Germanic brothers stumbled slightly as they immediately had to compensate for the dead weight. Prussia laughed a little breathlessly, "Wish we had you on board ten years ago!"

England struggled to keep his eyes open-he wasn't lying when he said that it was an exhausting little spell. _'_ _Solve one problem, just to cause another,'_ he thought sardonically. _'_ _That's magic, for you.'_ His vision began to blur and darken. "It…"

"Someone catch him!"

He felt himself falling, and then nothing.

* * *

 **Have you ever written something over so many times, that you're never happy with it? That's kinda where I'm at right now. My confidence with this story is rather low...and this chapter makes me especially nervous.**

 **And yet I feel compelled to share it with you all.**

 **Thank you all for the favs, follows, and reviews! Please tell me what you think? Please, please, please?**

 **Later dudes. ^J^**


	5. Chapter 5

"We can't lock him up," England declared the moment he entered Canada's favorite meeting room in Ontario. "You all know what happens to an isolated Nation; it would only make the problem worse."

"Why good morning to you too, England. I see you've decided that foreplay is for sissies," Prussia joked. When he was met only with disapproving silence, he sobered. "We've already considered that option. It wouldn't hold for very long, anyways. Alfred has an uncanny knack for breaking out of prison. He'd escape the day after we threw away the key."

Germany frowned, the gears in his head evidently turning as he considered their options. "There's no cure we know of, and we can't imprison him. So how do we prevent him from going on one of these…. _rampages_ again?"

"Those pills are the problem," Canada said slowly. "There's enough in _one pill_ to send a grown man almost into a medical coma, and Alfred's admitted to having to up the dosage twice in the past two decades. He's been relying on them too heavily, and now his body is resisting them."

"So _self-control_ is the name of the game," Prussia mused, immediately understanding what Canada was suggesting. "Challenging, seeing as how America doesn't typically accept help for this sort of thing."

"He doesn't have a choice in the matter," England responded with unwavering certainty. "We haven't the luxury to spare his pride over something so dangerous. I'm sure Alfred will understand. He's a git, but not _that_ much of a git."

"Now for the matter of getting him here," Germany said practically. He glanced at Canada sidelong. "…And you're sure about doing it here?"

The northern Nation nodded. "That way he can't Jump to the other side of the Hemisphere without leaving a clue when he gets fed up, or know intrinsically when we're coming his way and hide accordingly. Let me handle getting my brother here." His violet eyes were determined. "I'm not going to let this-this _illness_ control him any longer."

* * *

It'd been two weeks since the incident with the kidnappers. The man responsible for it, according to his government's findings, was an anarchist known only under the alias of _Argent Crowe_. He was thankfully in prison; Germany's highest security facility. But despite his being apprehended, the President had still responded as any Nation's boss would: A total conniption followed immediately by stern orders to stay in the White House.

But house arrest was the _last_ thing on America's mind, right now.

No less than _five_ Nations were now aware of his…problem. He figured that it would only be a matter of time before someone spilled the beans. Not to mention the fact that he had heard absolutely nothing from any of them.

 _'_ _They hate me. My allies hate me and are disgusted and are going to_ insist _on locking me up underground in fucking Antarctica or something. And they'll be right to do so.'_

He was just waiting for his phone to ring, and for the other shoe to drop.

And drop it did, though not in the way he'd expected. He woke up one morning to find a single text message from his brother.

 _To: Alfred F. Jones  
From: Matthew Williams_

 _Come to my property in Ontario. We need to talk._

America studied his phone, hoping to somehow glean some further information from the simple message, but none was forthcoming. He sighed, dreading what was to come.

 _'_ _But at least I have an excuse to get out of here.'_

* * *

England rolled up to the property in his rental car. A stretch of private road had lead him straight up to the moderate two-story sitting on a dirt clearing that was surrounded by legions of ancient trees and-…

 _'_ _Wait a minute.'_

England put his car into park, and got out. He breathed deeply, turning in a full circle. Walnut, ash, oaks, and cedars…

Then England gasped. He recognized this forest.

It was the one from his dream.

* * *

Canada put the final lock on his toolshed, and set the alarm. If anyone tries to break into it, he'll know immediately. Just in case something…happened.

He turned and headed back towards the house. His ears picked up the faint sound of tires crunching on gravel, which meant that the Germanic brothers had arrived. He opened the sliding glass door and nearly bumped into England, who was just coming out.

"Sorry, lad. Didn't see you there." The former empire sounded distracted, as though social niceties were the last thing on his mind. He had a tome in his hands that Canada suspected was magic and written well before intercontinental travel was even conceived.

"What are you doing with that?" the northern Nation asked as they maneuvered around each other.

"I'm setting up a barrier," England explained. "Alfred won't be able to get three miles away from this house without getting shocked into unconsciousness."

"Isn't that a bit extreme?"

Emerald eyes regarded him evenly. "We can't have him attacking mortals if something goes wrong."

Any response Canada might've had was cancelled by the sound of his front door opening and closing with a slam. "The awesome me has arrived to bring purpose to your insignificant immortal lives!"

 _'_ _How the hell did he unlock my door?'_

England rolled his eyes. "I'll get started on that barrier." He continued on his way, eventually disappearing into the trees.

Canada made his way towards the living room, where Prussia and Germany were waiting for him.

Prussia looked around and immediately asked, "Hey, is Killer here, yet?"

Canada winced slightly at the new nickname. "Er, no…"

Germany immediately hit his older brother upside the head. "Don't call him that. It won't help matters."

The albino rolled his eyes. " _Fine_ , fine. But seriously-when is Alfred getting here?"

"I texted him yesterday," Canada answered. "He said he'd be here, and since Ontario's not that far from his border, he should be here soon."

"If he's even willing to come," Germany pointed out. "America's silence on the matter has made it all too clear that he doesn't want anyone involved."

"It's not just about him, anymore," Canada said, though he sorely wished it were otherwise. It was _so_ much simpler when it was just the two of them. "It's getting worse, and beginning to affect others. He has no choice. I'm sure Alfred realizes this."

As if to prove his point, the familiar rumbling sound of a motorcycle echoed down the secluded road, followed by crunching gravel in Canada's driveway before its engine was cut off.

"That would be him," Prussia observed. His voice gained a hint of longing as he continued, "With his Harley this time…I wonder if he'd let me take it for a drive?"

America knocked on the door before opening it. He blinked, not having expected the Germanic brothers to be there. His already wavering smile faded, and his expression morphed into something like dread. He looked about two seconds from getting right back on his bike and driving away as fast as possible.

 _'_ Oh _, no. You're not getting out of this.'_ Canada pulled his reluctant brother inside, and made a point of locking the door behind him. "England should be back soon. We can wait in the dining room."

Alfred sighed with quiet resignation. "Right…let me just put my stuff away." He gestured vaguely to the overnight backpack slung over his shoulder.

"Your room is the first one on the right," Canada reminded him.

"I remember," the southernmost twin said. He turned and retreated up the stairs as quickly as he could.

Germany frowned. "Not incredibly enthusiastic…but at least he came. It takes a strong man to admit that he has a problem."

"And an even _stronger_ one to set aside his pride and accept help in dealing with it," Prussia added in one of his rare moments of sage wisdom. "Hey, I'm going to the bathroom real quick before we get started. It's upstairs, right?" He didn't even wait for an answer as he disappeared up the stairs as well.

Canada watched him go, thinking. He truly appreciated their determination to help his brother…though he was still worried _._

 _'_ _Because now we just have to hope that this'll actually_ work _.'_

* * *

America felt very much like he was on trial, sitting at one end of the dining room table, twiddling his thumbs nervously as four of his peers faced him from the other side, who were acting the part of judge, jury, and executioner all at once. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and said, "So, Italy isn't here…"

"Italy's government isn't allowing him to leave Europe," Germany explained, his tone neutral. "Which is as well. He shouldn't have to deal with something like this.

" _No one_ should," America muttered more to himself, though he was relieved to know that at least Italy would be safe. "It's my problem-no one else's."

England snorted. "And you've been doing so well with that. Relying on _drugs_ to control your homicidal tendencies."

Alfred flinched. _'_ _Homicidal tendencies…'_

Then the island Nation sighed. "You need to stop this. Your chemicals are becoming less effective by the year. At a certain point, they'll stop working. And then…well, then there's nothing you can do about it, because _you can't control it_."

America looked down at the table. _'_ _Without the medicine, nothing can stop me. Not even myself…And it would feel_ so good _…_ No _.'_

He cut that thought off with an effort, glad that he was still able to at least do that much without showing it. He blinked, only now realizing that they were waiting for an answer. "I know...I just haven't exactly been able to do anything about it with the meetings and stuff…" _'_ _Jeez, that sounds like such a lame excuse.'_

"Which is why you'll be staying here as long as it takes for you to learn self-control, once and for all," Prussia informed him. "And we'll be here to help."

The blond Nation stared at them openly, not really wanting to believe it. His stomach dropped. "Y-you are?"

 _'_ _Something'll go wrong, someone'll get hurt, I'll lose control, I won't be able to stop, I won't_ want _to stop, and then they'll wake up and I'll do it again and again and again…'_

"America."

Canada's voice brought him back into reality. _'_ _Thinking about it makes it worse. Could this conversation just end?'_ He shook his head in answer to Prussia's declaration. "Bad idea. _Really_ bad idea. I shouldn't be here. None of you should have to be here, either-It's something that I'd rather deal with alone, so that no one gets hurt."

"On the contrary, I think you've been alone in this for far too long," Germany said. "This isn't just about you, America. We can't have you losing control in public."

"That won't ha-"

"Oh, _yes_ it will," Prussia interrupted, leaning forward over the table intently. "The medicine is going to stop working. And it will happen at the _worst time possible_. Like the White House or a meeting or a charity benefit for homeless veteran three-legged hamsters. So it's better to get off the stuff where you can do so safely."

"It's not as though you have a choice in the matter, anyways. I've already set up a barrier around the property that closed the moment you pulled into the driveway." England's voice was firm. "We've cleared the vacation time with our respective governments. This is happening _now_."

Canada went into his pocket and pulled something out that made America's throat tighten. His stomach rolled with sudden anger. _'_ _Nononothat'sminehetookitI'llhurthim_ I'LLKILLHIM _.'_

He screwed his eyes shut, unable to completely stifle a growl as he struggled to lock those feelings away again. "…You weren't supposed to find that." _'_ _Why am I thinking these things? I would_ never _hurt Mattie.'_

His brother's expression remained steadily neutral. He'd seen this behavior from Alfred before, and while it clearly still bothered him, it no longer scared him. He laid the object gingerly on the table. "This has to stop, Al."

A plain black strand of cord, with teeth hanging off of it that varied in age, species, and condition. It was something he started a long time ago, and never left home without (though he'd deny it vehemently). It was a necklace…for his trophies.

America put his head in his hands, anger quickly giving way to self-loathing. _'_ _Trophies…_ God _, I'm so fucked up in the head. I shouldn't even_ have _trophies.'_

England's tone softened. "Alfred, are you alright?"

"No, Arthur," the western Nation bit out shamefully. "I'm not alright."

* * *

 **I couldn't wait any longer to post this one. My self-control is severely lacking.**

 **So thank you for all the favs and follows, and a special thanks to those of you who review. Now I've gotta get cracking on that Chapter 56 for TWMUTL...Please tell me what you thought of this bit in a review!**

 **Later dudes. ^J^**


	6. Chapter 6

England's crowding and following him all over the house was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable, but America dared not remove himself from the couch now for fear of the polar bear standing before him.

Kumajirou wasn't acting at all like the complacent house pet he played at being these days. Right now he was the ancient guardian who lived to protect his master from the supernatural perils that Canada himself wasn't always able to deal with.

And right now he was staring America down exactly like he would a wendigo crouching on Canada's front lawn in early January.

"Uh…Nanuq, it's me." America held up his hands in the universal 'I mean no harm' gesture. "You know, Alfred? Mattie's brother?"

England watched carefully, apparently wise enough to not interfere with the spirit.

Kumajirou took a careful step towards the western Nation, sniffing the air. He snorted sharply and growled, "I can smell it all over you."

Canada walked in as his pet said this, and visibly jolted. "E-eh?"

"'Eh' is right." America crossed his arms, and glared accusingly. "You know exactly what this is, don't you?"

"Yes." Kumajirou sat down, however his weighted gaze remained trained on the American. "I was the one who suppressed it in the first place."

England frowned severely. "I think you'd better start from the beginning."

The bear's beady black eyes remained unblinking. "If you insist."

* * *

 _"_ _Nanuq, there is something wrong with Maska."_

 _"_ _I'm not surprised," Nanuq scoffed. "It is no doubt the fault of your teachings."_

 _"_ _You do not understand. Something is_ very _wrong with him. A sickness of some sort. But I do not know how to cure it."_

 _Nanuq regarded the trickster spirit evenly. Very rarely was Manabozho ever serious like this. It was admittedly worrisome. "What sort of sickness is it?"_

 _"_ _It would be best if you saw for yourself. Leave your ward with a tribe you trust, for now. Maska is being held far southwest of here, among the ancient Joshua trees."_

 _And so Nanuq followed. For beings such as them, it was only a sevenday's travel. However the sight they were met with upon arrival was not a fortunate one._

 _Maska was exactly where Manabozho had left him. Trapped by the roots of an enchanted elder tree that would not be broken, he still pulled and scratched at the barrier. His eyes were unnaturally red, and gleaming with an unholy rage that did not belong to someone still so young._

 _"_ _He hardly speaks," the rabbit explained quietly, "and hurts others without forethought. Two dogs have died, already."_

 _Nanuq only sighed, disturbed by his not-quite-a-friend's words. This behavior among humans was grounds for exorcism. And if the darkness did not depart for whatever the reason…less attractive options were explored. "These children are turning out to be more trouble than they're worth," he griped. "How long has he been like this?"_

 _"_ _Too long; multiple days where it used to be only a matter of minutes." Manabohzo shrugged helplessly. "I've tried everything I know."_

 _The polar bear nodded. He approached the disturbed little land spirit, who bared his teeth as though feral and tried to reach past the bars to seize flesh and fur with a clawed little hand. Then the smell hit him. An awful, mindless bloodthirst swirling within an aura that should have been passionate and warm. Nanuq focused, trying to look past the corruption, only to find that it wasn't a corruption at all. "This is no illness. This is…something else. A legacy from his originators, I fear."_

 _Manabohzo's ears drooped, saddened. "Is there anything you can do?"_

 _"_ _There is something," Nanuq answered slowly. "I can suppress these urges."_

 _The rabbit nodded. "But…?"_

 _"_ _But something could wake it up again, if we're not careful," Nanuq finally warned. "Maska will always have a capacity for violence, but with intense prompting his mind can prod the darkness awake again. I suggest you keep him busy with other things."_

 _"_ _That is no problem," Manabohzo assured. "He will always have his brother to be the voice of reason and benevolence when he cannot think. Just do it before anyone else gets hurt."_

* * *

"Oh, God," Canada breathed, bringing his hands up to his mouth. "After your Civil War…we didn't speak for sixty-four years."

"I may have been partially to blame for that," England sighed regretfully. He turned his attention to the shocked American on the couch, with a look that said he was about to ask for something hard to give. "Lad, you need to tell us when this first resurfaced."

America looked like he wanted to shrink in on himself. "Really? 'Cause it's…not right."

"This _entire situation_ is 'not right'," Canada said. "You have to."

The western Nation ran a hand agitatedly through his hair. " _Damn_ …1893, at the Chicago World Fair. There was this hotel and…well, I saw someone doing something. Then my ears started ringing, and I felt like I wasn't really there for a moment. Something broke, and I just got really, _really_ angry, and-…er…I'll spare you the details. I kinda blacked out, and woke up under a tree near Lake Michigan with blood on my clothes and a gold tooth in my hand."

"We need more details than that," England chastised impatiently, "or else we'll get nowhere. What did you see, exactly?"

America flexed his fingers, and shuddered unpleasantly. "You can search up H.H. Holmes on the internet. I don't want to even _think_ about it." He stood up, and brushed past his brother into the kitchen. One could hear the back door sliding open, indicating that he'd retreated outside.

That was the moment Prussia strolled in, beer in hand despite it not even being noon yet. He looked around, taking in their undoubtedly grim expressions with mild confusion. "Did I miss something important?"

Canada turned back to Kumajirou. "Can you do it again? The medicine isn't working the way it used to."

The bear sighed and said, "If I had noticed sooner, or had you mentioned it when you first found out, then maybe. But as it stands now...this instinct is much stronger than it was several centuries ago, after being given time to fester and anchor itself firmly into his nature. There is nothing I can do."

Canada looked down at the wood floor, his expression one of barely restrained grief. "I see," he muttered, not quite looking his bear in the eye. Then he turned on his heel, and walked quickly out of the room, going right past a rather perturbed Prussia without even a glance.

"You called it an instinct," England recalled. "A legacy from their originators…Their mother was Vinland, correct?"

"How do you know that?" Kumajirou demanded sharply, black eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"They told me." England shuddered in remembrance. "On a road trip that I'd much rather forget." He took a moment to compose himself, and the bear used that moment to lumber over to the couch and leap up onto it.

"I see what you're getting at, and perhaps it _will_ help if you speak with their extended family. But you're on your own for how you approach it-I don't think the Nordics even know they're related."

* * *

Germany's phone beeped at him, telling him that he had a message. He stopped, and took the device out to see what it said.

 _To: Ludwig Beilshmidt  
From: Matthew Williams_

 _Al just ran into the woods. Want an exercise partner?_

The blond Nation promptly texted back:

 _To: Matthew Williams  
From: Ludwig Beilshmidt_

 _I'll keep an eye out._

He tucked his phone away, and continued running. North American terrain was harder to traverse, but he could appreciate the challenge it presented.

 _'_ _Though I wish Canada were here to help me avoid the gopher holes.'_

It wasn't long before he began to hear footsteps that weren't his own thumping against the ground. None other than America crossed his path directly ahead of him. Germany changed course and began to follow, struggling to keep up. Of course America would be slightly more familiar with his brother's lands, and hence able to run with less impediments.

"America!"

The western Nation came to a stop, his shoulders tensed as though anticipating an altercation. Germany stopped a respectful distance behind him, panting slightly. "Just a bit further in that direction is England's barrier," he informed as America slowly turned around to face him. "I don't want to drag your unconscious body four kilometers back to the house."

"Oh, right," America rubbed the back of his neck. His expression was that of a person who'd been caught red-handed. "Sorry…I must've forgot."

Germany quirked an eyebrow to show his disbelief. "No, you didn't. You were going to try and break through it."

When America didn't try to deny it, Germany had to sigh. "Come run with me."

* * *

As soon as Prussia was filled in, his jaw dropped. _"_ _Seriously?"_

England crossed his arms. "Yes. Now we need to figure out what we're going to do with this knowledge. I for one want to find out more. H.H. Holmes…the name sounds familiar, somehow. I'll look into it."

"I've got some calls to make," Canada said quietly. "I just don't know how to break the news to them. I mean-Alfred and I agreed to just leave the Nordics alone about it. They never even raised us, so the connection just seemed too flimsy to justify."

"Wouldn't want to be in your shoes." Prussia sipped his beer thoughtfully. "Assuming they _don't_ have a solution, what'll we do?"

"We'll continue as we have been I suppose," England said resignedly. "It's all we _can_ do."

* * *

 **So, Joshua trees are actually some of the oldest living beings in the world. Like,** ** _unbelievably_ ****ancient. Think dinosaurs. And it's not hard to believe when you look at them. I drive through the Joshua Tree National Forest often enough when going out of town (on Interstate 10-the eighteenth deadliest highway in the US…because what's life without a little mortal peril?), and the place looks downright** ** _primeval_** **.**

 **Sorry guys, TWMUTL is giving me some trouble right now...I'm working on it, but it's slow in the coming. I'll try to get it out before the fall semester starts.**

 **Thanks for all the favs, follows, and reviews-eternally grateful for those, of course. Please tell me what ya thought of this one?**

 **Later dudes. ^J^**


	7. Chapter 7

America's presence had made Germany's workout longer than usual. They'd stopped jogging after a while, and upon the western Nation's suggestion, they initiated a tree climbing contest. This was closely followed by an intense game of catch (during which Germany wondered whether America _always_ carried a baseball with him). Strange exercises in the form of games that the Germanic Nation probably wouldn't have otherwise engaged in, but oddly effective as a workout routine if his exhaustion was anything to go by.

It was late afternoon when they finally decided to stop and rest. Germany sat on a fallen tree, while America lounged lazily on a nearby mossy boulder with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. Neither one spoke, giving Germany time to think.

Though he would never say it aloud, Germany had always considered America as an idealist-quick to see the good in people, and with an active imagination that was better off in a twelve year-old. It was honestly hard to believe that his personality could flip so quickly and completely. It was even harder to believe that it'd been so close to the surface all this time.

But then again…

* * *

 _He surveyed the remains of what used to be a military base with calculation. "What happened here?"_

 _The soldier, still shaking from whatever he'd seen, adjusted his grip on the bloodied cloth being held against his shoulder. "A demon, Herr Beilschmidt."_

Slap!

 _"_ _I have neither the time nor patience for superstitions," Germany snapped. "What happened here? Where are the prisoners?"_

 _"_ _E-escaped," the quaking soldier managed. "Going Northwest."_

 _The Germanic Nation growled. The blood was fresh-they couldn't have gotten far. He might be able to catch them, if he hurried. "Put together a squadron and load the trucks. We're going after them."_

 _The soldier suddenly looked as though he wanted to shrink in on himself. "I can't, Sir. The American, he-" A small shudder. "I'm the only one left."_

* * *

Perhaps the clues were there the entire time, and no one ever put them together. Each incident so far apart that no one would interlock the pieces of this gruesome puzzle.

 _'_ _Why did he never seek help?'_ Aloud he asked, "What brought you out here, this morning?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Exhaling loudly through his nose, the German Nation willed himself to be patient. He'd never been very good at counseling. "We're here to help you, whether you like it or not. If you won't talk to me, then I'll have _everyone_ sit down to address this issue."

America sat straight up in alarm. " _No_ -er, nope, not necessary. That would be super embarrassing."

"Embarrassing," Germany echoed with a skeptical frown.

"…Kind of?" the western Nation defended weakly.

Germany waited.

America withstood a full minute of silence before sighing, and scratching at his messy blond hair. "It's really, uh…" Then it all came flooding out in a hard-to-discern jumble. "Well it turns out I was kinda born with this thing but Kumajirou suppressed it and never _said_ _anything the total asshat_ but anyways they asked me when it first started up again and I _really really really_ don't want to think about it too much because remembering makes me-…" He abruptly cut himself off, and looked away with something akin to shame.

"It makes you…?" Germany prompted as gently as he could manage.

America's answer was almost too quiet to hear. "It excites me, Ludwig. And not in a good way." He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. "I don't like it. It's even worse with my friends and family. No one should _ever_ have to witness me when I'm like that.

Germany found himself considering America's words. Here they were, on his brother's property and almost entirely cut off from the outside world. The only people present were people he cared about. People he held in high regard…

 _'_ _People he would_ kill _, given one slip in control. And now he's going without the medicine he's relied on for so many years._

 _…_ _Gott, I would probably be scared, too.'_

America huffed into the ensuing silence. "We should probably head back before they thing I killed you or something."

 _'_ _Wait-something important there.'_

Germany withdrew his phone, to see that it was already lunch time. "Agreed. Let's get moving."

* * *

England stared at the article he'd found, repulsed at the words yet unable to stop reading.

 _Holmes had a three-story building constructed, creating an elaborate house of horrors. The upper floors contained his living quarters and many small rooms where he tortured and killed his victims. Some of these rooms had gas jets so that Holmes could asphyxiate his victims. There were also trapdoors and chutes so that he could move the bodies down to the basement where he could burn his victims' remains in a kiln there or dispose of them in other ways…_

A sadistic house of horrors disguised as an inn opened at the 1893 Columbian Expedition-Chicago's World Fair.

 _And America was there when it happened._

England didn't know for sure what it was that Alfred exactly saw, but it was awful enough to wake up his… _other side_ from a centuries-long slumber where just over century of border disputes, a revolution, and a remarkably bloody civil war hadn't.

 _'…_ _Do I truly want to know?'_

Uncertain as to whether this new information could ever become useful, England printed the article anyways. They had one source at least that they might address if nothing else.

* * *

Canada's finger hovered just over his phone's dial pad. Norway hadn't answered his phone for whatever the reason. So now Canada was on his second try with Denmark. But he hesitated as he puzzled over what to say.

 _'_ _Hey Denmark, its Canada. I was just wondering how you guys control the homicidal tendencies that're supposed to run in the family because my brother's already killed a few people and it's getting rather hard to manage…oh, and Vinland was our mother. We didn't tell you because neither of us really know you guys outside of work and we didn't think you'd really care or want to deal with us!'_

God, no. That was a conversation doomed to disaster if he'd ever imagined one.

In hindsight, they should've swallowed their respective prides and addressed the whole, 'we're actually closely related' thing _years_ ago. It would've made this infinitely less awkward.

 _'_ _I have to do this,'_ the northern Nation reminded himself firmly. _'_ _For Alfred's sake.'_

Sometimes it's hard to be a good brother.

Intent reaffirmed, he dialed the number. It rang several times, and Canada held the private hope that it'd go to voicemail.

 _"_ _Hei?"_

"Denmark? It's Canada."

 _"_ _Ah, Canada! I haven't heard from you since before the kidnapping._ Everyone's _been freaking out about it. How're you?"_

"Things could be better," Canada admitted. "There's, uh…something I need to ask you. We were told that you might be familiar with an… _affliction_ someone I know has been struggling with."

The Dane hummed thoughtfully from his end of the line. _"_ _I'm honestly not much of a doctor, but…Well, what are the symptoms?"_

"Violent behavior," Canada answered. "Usually without cause, and extremely difficult to control. His eyes change color when it happens. He was born with it."

Denmark had fallen strangely silent.

"Please," Canada muttered quietly into the phone, "if you know something…I don't want anyone else to get hurt. It's only getting worse."

 _"_ _Born with it…"_ Denmark muttered, voice far away from the speaker. _"_ _If you don't mind me asking, who told you I'd know anything?"_

"My pet polar bear spirit," Canada admitted, wincing at how ridiculous it sounded.

Remarkably, Denmark didn't seem that put off by the answer. Instead he was uncharacteristically serious. _"_ _Hold on for a second_. _"_ There was a line of foreign-sounding speech too muffled for Canada to know what was being said or what language it was even in. Then he heard who might've been Norway respond, followed by a brief but intense argument between the both of them.

 _"_ _Canada."_

"Norway?"

 _"_ _Yes."_ The Nordic Nation's usual even tone was brisk. _"_ _Who has been showing these symptoms?"_

"Al-er, America," Canada answered nervously. "Why?"

 _"_ _Because the first person to have that was our father. Denmark had inherited it, but we got it mostly removed while it was still developing when he was very young."_

Canada said nothing. Norway's voice had grown grim in his remembrance.

 _"_ _Canada."_

"…Yes?"

 _"_ _Your brother was born with a trait that runs only in our family. I believe you know what I'm getting at."_

"I do," Canada affirmed quietly, unable to help how hesitant it sounded.

He heard the back sliding door roll open, accompanied by the voices of Alfred and Ludwig. They'd returned from their exercise at the worst time possible.

"Yo Mattie, I'm takin' some of yer water bottles! Ludwig's totally dehydrated from trying to keep up with my awesome."

" _Gott_ , not you too."

Matthew supposed he should've just been glad that Prussia wasn't around to hear that.

 _"_ _That is America in the background?"_ Norway inquired intently.

"Yeah, he just returned from a workout."

 _"_ _Let me talk to him."_

The phone felt like a dead weight in his hand. He called out to his brother in the kitchen, "Alfred! Norway wants to talk to you!"

"I thought ya'll said no outside calls!" came the immediate challenge.

"This is important." Canada pushed the house phone into his brother's chest. "And be honest."

America groaned. "You told him, didn't you?"

" _Al_ fred."

" _Fine_ , fine, jeez." America lifted the phone to his ear, switching to the default cheer he used in most initial conversations with Nations he didn't associate with as much. "'Sup, Norway?"

Germany walked in at just that moment, open water bottle in hand. He raised his eyebrows at the phone rather pointedly, but said nothing.

Whatever the answer was sobered America's tone immediately. "…Yes."

Another muffled something from the other end of the line caused America to turn and take the phone to the next room. "Wel-" The door closed behind him, leaving the remaining Nations utterly bewildered at the action.

"It's not a secret anymore," Germany murmured. "We're here to help him. So why is he being so private about it, still?"

"Force of habit, I guess," Canada shrugged. "He keeps a lot of things private."

"I heard the word awesome and had to come see what it was about!" Prussia announced loudly as he strolled into the room, effectively cutting off whatever reply his brother might've had. England followed close behind. "And I found Eyebrows digging in your garden. Are you going to punish him for it, and if so can I watch?"

"It was important," England insisted, frowning intensely at the albino's suggestion. "I wouldn't do it, otherwise."

"The teeth?" Canada guessed.

The island Nation nodded. "We can't have them lying around for America to find. It can only invite disaster. And speaking of which, I did some research on that H.H. Holmes character."

Canada bit his lip. "How bad is it?"

"Very. I'm not at all surprised his other side woke up after what he likely witnessed." England rubbed his dirtied hands on his pants, and glanced in Germany's direction. "Did you get anything out of him while you were out?"

"He doesn't like being locked in a magical box with his loved ones and without his medicine," Germany reported. "Which is to be expected."

"The sooner he gets over this, the sooner we can all go home," Prussia stated. "But at the rate things are going, this'll _never_ be over. We need a catalyst."

"No we do _not_ ," Canada denied flatly. "This is a dangerous situation, and we shouldn't tempt fate any further by prodding Alfred into action."

Germany reached up to rub his jaw thoughtfully. "He's not getting much practice in controlling himself…and it's not as though we can delay the inevitable for very long, anyways."

England understood what they were getting at immediately. His eyes widened in alarm. "No. We are not going to _cause_ an attack. It's completely out of the question."

"We won't know for sure that America has gained control of his illness until we _see_ him do it," Prussia pressed. "And it'll have to be when he's just teetering on the edge."

"That's-"

America reentered the room before England could complete his sentence, phone in hand. His brows were furrowed as though perplexed. He tossed the phone to his brother, and to their questioning glances he said, "Norway hung up on me."

"What did you tell him?" Canada asked, honestly surprised.

"He…asked me how we were related to the Nordics," America said slowly, thoughtfully. "I said our mother, then he made a weird choking noise and hung up." His frown deepened slightly. "Do you think I said something wrong? 'Cause I don't want to make an enemy out of a guy that hangs out with trolls."

"Hopefully you just surprised him. Anyone with such a tightly knit family would be shocked to know find out they had extra nephews." England glanced aside to the clock ticking away on the mantle. "And I do believe it is tea time."

* * *

 **Ah, England, you and your tea.**

 **Thanks for the favs, follows, and reviews everyone! Let me know what you thought of this one because I am an absolute attention whore-pwetty. pwetty, pwease?**

 **Later dudes. ^J^**


	8. Chapter 8

"I heard about the kidnapping." Dark, concerned eyes regarded Italy. "Are you alright, _Italia-kun_?"

The brunette shook himself out of a daydream to smile at Japan. "Mhmm! I'm fine, and happy that everyone is safe!"

The Asian Nation clearly wasn't convinced-he'd always been good at reading people. "Is that why several members of the G8 have disappeared entirely?"

Italy felt his smile begin to waver. "They're fine." _'_ _I hope.'_ "Their governments didn't react to the incident very well, I guess."

Japan's hand came to rest on the meeting table next to him. "And yet yours was completely fine with letting you leave your country to attend the World Meeting?"

The pasta-loving Nation bit his lip nervously. He wasn't expecting so many questions! "C-could we not talk about this, anymore? You're the fifth person to ask."

Japan sensed his friend's intense perturbation, and thankfully withdrew. " _Gomen, Italia-kun_. I did not mean to cause you discomfort."

"It's alright," Italy said with a soft sigh of relief. "You were just curious."

The Japanese man's response was so quiet and unexpected, that Italy did a mental double-take. "More like worried. Something…something doesn't feel right."

Italy had to look away from his friend. _'_ _I hate lying.'_

"Perhaps it will come to me later. Excuse me, _Italia-kun_ , but I must prepare. I am next at the podium after lunch."

* * *

The day crawled by. America had locked himself in his room about an hour ago, if the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table was right. Now that he'd been tracing lazy circles above his head for a good forty-five minutes, he was regretting not taking a book or something with him…but did Canada even _have_ any American authors in his library? He'd never thought to check.

If his taste was anything like France or England's, it'd be Poe. But Poe was just so _depressing_. And Matthew struck him more as a Fenimore Cooper kind of guy, anyways.

One of these days, Alfred would remind Mister 'Queen's English' that one of his favorite authors was an American. He'd do it with a camera, too.

A knock on his door. "Alfred," came Canada's muffled voice. "It's dinner time!"

The American closed his eyes. "'M not hungry."

"Are you sure?" The northern Nation sounded surprised, and maybe a little worried.

 _'_ _Or afraid,'_ a darker part of his mind suggested. _'_ _He thinks I'm a monster, just like the rest of them. Waiting for me to snap…_

 _…_ _Who am I to keep them waiting?'_

America sat up quickly, banishing that line of thought before it could go any further. Matthew wasn't an easy guy to scare-much less by his own brother. He was fooling himself to think otherwise. "Y-yeah, I'm sure."

"…If you say so, Al." Retreating footsteps, and then silence.

America crossed his legs, putting his head in his hands. Nineteen- _fucking_ -hours without pills, and he was already having nasty thoughts.

 _'_ _It wasn't supposed to be like this. No one was ever supposed to know!'_

He vacated the bed, and crossed the room to face the mirror that hung over the dresser.

 _'_ _I look tired.'_

America grimaced at his reflection. He needed to sleep. But sleep was just inviting the blood-stained nightmares.

Then he chastised himself. _'_ _There's nothing I can do about that right now. It's high-time to stop feeling sorry for myself and start doing what I have to do to get my life back under my own control. Which means getting a full-night's rest.'_

With that bit of self-pep-talk, but still without the courage to venture out of his room, America lay back and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"America's not coming down for dinner," Canada informed, just barely keeping his voice even.

Prussia looked interested. "And this bothers you?"

"He doesn't typically skip meals if he can help it," the Canadian nearly snapped, irritated at the albino's flippancy.

"Alright, alright." Prussia raised his hands in figurative surrender.

Germany sighed, cutting into his food. "I apologize for my brother's behavior, and suggest that you ignore him for the time being."

England rolled his eyes. "Consider it done." He shut the book he'd be reading all day. "I can hardly imagine how America had even lasted all these years when _you_ were one of the two people who were in on his secret."

"Trust me when I say that I often wish that I didn't know," Prussia said. His mouth pulled back in regretful remembrance. "Then again, it was really my own fault for getting involved in the first place."

* * *

 _America shut off the chainsaw in his hands as he saw Prussia coming up the driveway. "Gil, my man! I_ knew _I felt someone arrive last night! Why didn't you call first, though?"_

 _The albino gingerly stepped over the random pieces of firewood that were strewn about and accepted his outstretched hand warmly. "Sorry about that-I booked a flight on a whim. I just needed to get away for a little bit. I mean, do you_ know _how long it's been since I left Europe? Not to mention the fact that we haven't really talked much since before the Wall…" He trailed off before shaking his head, expelling an unpleasant memory. "I'm not intruding, am I?"_

 _"'_ _Course not," America reassured jovially. "You know you're welcome anytime. I got plenty of room." He used his free hand to gesture vaguely towards the sizeable cabin sitting atop the hill._

 _Prussia smiled gratefully, and then looked around. "Hey, do you have a working telephone in the middle of effing nowhere like this?"_

 _"_ _Yeah," the bond answered. He tilted his head. "Why? You need to call somebody?"_

 _"_ _I gotta tell West where I am," Prussia explained. "He worries enough as it is."_

 _"_ _I can understand that," America shrugged. "Mattie always-" He stopped, his blue eyes becoming abruptly distant. It was suddenly as if he were looking_ though _Prussia rather than at him. A faint shudder, followed by a twitch. The chainsaw dropped with a clatter._

 _"_ _Alfred?" The albino snapped his fingers in front of his friend's face. "Are you alright?" He heard a slight tinge of worry coloring his own voice at the abrupt change._

 _America burst into motion, sprinting towards the cabin as though his life depended on it. Prussia, unsure of what else to do, followed. He caught up just in time to see America rush into the bathroom, open the medicine cabinet, and take out an orange pill bottle._

'What the hell?'

 _The tall Nation withdrew a small blue tablet, and swallowed it dry. He shuddered as the pill seemed to immediately take effect._

 _Prussia frowned._ 'Since when did a Nation need medicine?'

 _The blond came out of the bathroom, and Prussia regarded him an expression of open confusion, waiting for an explanation. America rubbed the back of his head with a sheepishly mortified expression. "Sorry 'bout that. I've been getting, uh…explosive diarrhea."_

 _"_ _Explosive diarrhea," Prussia repeated slowly, immediately suspicious. "Right. We'll just go with that. Because I apparently survived over eight hundred years by being_ extremely stupid _."_

 _America winced at his tone, but said nothing._

 _Prussia crossed his arms. "So, you gonna tell me what that was_ really _all about, or is this going to be like pulling teeth?"_

 _The American's lips quirked into a brief, oddly bitter smile at that for some reason. But his features quickly smoothed out again as he shook his head. "I can't. It's_ my _problem."_

 _"_ _I suppose I can respect that," the albino acquiesced, hiding his disappointment behind a shrug. "I won't ask again. But if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm willing to lend an ear. Alright?"_

 _America seemed to relax at his words. "Yeah…Thanks, dude." He glanced towards the still open front door, and the scattered firewood sitting outside, waiting to be picked up and piled with the rest on the porch. "I hate to ask this of a guest. But would you mind helping me stack the firewood?"_

 _Prussia smiled easily. America didn't suspect a thing. "Not at all. It's the least I can do."_

* * *

 _Prussia exited the guest bedroom with towel and toiletries in hand just as America came out of the bathroom wrapped in towel of his own. "All yours. Imma hit the hay. So if you need anything, you know where the kitchen is."_

 _"_ _Sure thing!" the albino returned, maybe a trifle too enthusiastically. America was going straight to bed, which meant he wouldn't see what Prussia was doing. The western Nation's bedroom door closed, and Prussia leaped into action._

 _He went into the bathroom, showered, and brushed his teeth. Before he left, he took the pills from the medicine cabinet and tucked them into his waistband. He went into the living room, sat on the couch, and waited._

 _At about one o'clock in the morning, a dozing Prussia started at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. He knew he couldn't be seen from his position-that was why he'd picked the couch in the first place. He listened as the medicine cabinet was opened. Then it was a drawer. Then a few more. Pretty soon he could hear muffled curses as America practically tore the bathroom apart searching for his pills. There was a harsh, unidentifiable noise of frustration that made the albino's hairs stand on end. Then all fell silent for a while._

 _Prussia sank further into the couch as he heard footsteps exit the bathroom, go down the hall, and into the entryway. Much to his confusion, he heard the front door open, and then close. Where was he going? He hesitated only for a minute before slipping on his shoes and going outside to find out what America was up to._

 _"Alfred!" Prussia called out from the porch. There was no answer, but he thought he heard a noise coming from the garage. He walked around to the garage, and found its large door to be open. He stepped cautiously, peeking around the corner to see what was going on. In the dim garage lighting, he could see the taller Nation's form rummaging through the cabinets where the tools were kept. "Alfred…?"_

 _The American froze, his back still turned._

 _"_ _What are you_ doing _?"_

 _America said nothing. He rose to his feet in an oddly fluid motion, allowing Prussia to see what was clutched in his hands._

 _It was the chainsaw from earlier._

 _The albino heard alarm bells ringing in his head. "What…Why do you have that?"_

 _Still no answer. America twitched, and looked over his shoulder to regard the Prussian. It was then that Prussia noticed a few things. Red eyes-like his own, except much darker and shining with malice. This was accompanied by a strange, disquieting smile. One that promised pain upon the beholder._

'Looks like he's finally cracked.'

 _Prussia began slowly backing away. "Alfred, this really isn't necessary." He drew the pill bottle from his pocket, and rattled it. "See? They're right here. So now you can take one, and we can pretend this never happened. Right?" He held out the medication._

 _America tilted his head sharply and watched Prussia for a long, unnervingly silent moment. He wordlessly flicked the switch on the chainsaw, causing it to rumble to life. His expression didn't change as he began walking forward, his pace unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world._

 _Seeing that negotiations had failed, Prussia made a mad dash for the house. He dove inside and barred the door, fully aware that that such an action was futile. But he wasn't counting on the door to protect him._

'Because I know _someone_ who is paranoid enough to have just as many guns as Switzerland hidden in his house.'

 _He was quick to identify a hiding spot, for he couldn't help but note earlier that the coffee table had hinges. He opened it to find an old double barreled shotgun and assorted options for 12-guage ammunition. He snatched the weapon and a box of non-lethal rubber rounds._ 'Apparent homicidal maniac or not, killing my host would just be rude.'

 _The albino loaded it, and pointed it at the door, waiting._

 _He didn't have to wait very long, because there was a loud CRACK! as the door was ripped in two. The roar of the chainsaw filled the enclosed space as America broke into the living room. Just as he raised his weapon, Prussia opened fire with both barrels._

 _Two heavy rubber rounds to the stomach, and America staggered back with a grunt. He blinked, and shook his head. Prussia saw a flash of sky blue before America twitched and started to come at him again, scarlet eyes blazing._

'Alfred's still in there,' _Prussia realized, throwing aside the now useless shotgun._ 'The one _I_ know, at least. Can I get him to make a more lasting appearance?'

 _America swung the chainsaw in an effort to slice the albino's abdomen open, but Prussia jumped back barely enough for the machine to just catch his clothing. America lashed out with his fist, which connected solidly with Prussia's jaw. The albino backed up and put both hands against his mouth. America then shoved him into a wall, cornering him there._

 _The American leaned in close with an eager growl. Prussia met his eyes unflinchingly, and took the opportunity to spit the pill he had stuck between his teeth straight into America's mouth. The blond Nation recoiled in surprise, inadvertently swallowing it. His grip loosened on the albino and Prussia immediately distanced himself as much as the living room would allow. America began to twitch and spasm, his eyes flashing between red and blue before settling on their normal cheerful blue color. He slid down the wall, chainsaw in his hands powered off and forgotten._

 _Prussia crossed his arms as he looked down at the younger Nation. "What was it you said again?_ 'Explosive Diarrhea' _?"_

 _Alfred sent a half-hearted glare his way. "You hid them…not cool." His chin came forward to rest on his chest, and he fell asleep._

* * *

"So again, totally my fault," Prussia reiterated quickly. His voice became even more uncharacteristically dour as he continued, "When I found out, I knew that I couldn't leave things where they lie. I had a responsibility, as a relatively decent, near-human being, to do everything I could to help." He leaned back, the spell his story had cast on the room broken as he took a swig of his beer. "So, that's why I'm _here_ , and not hanging with France or Spain like a sane person."

"As if anyone would mistake you for _decent_ ," England muttered, still miffed at the albino's earlier comments. As an afterthought he added, "Or sane."

"That explains why you refused to explain exactly how you'd lost a tooth when you came back," Germany recalled, remembering the day Prussia came home with a vaguely disturbed expression, a set of ruined nightclothes, and a new gap in his teeth. "You complained about it for two days before it grew back, I recall."

Canada couldn't help but snicker. "That also explains why you reacted so badly when America took that chainsaw out of my trunk."

Prussia spluttered at that reminder, sending Canada a poisonous glance. "I _thought_ he was going to kill me! And that you were in on it!" The albino threw up his hands. "You looked like the twin lumberjacks from Hell, with the way you were going on!"

England raised one gigantic eyebrow at the ex-Nation. "What did you do, exactly?"

"He climbed a tree," Canada answered for him with no small amount of mirth as he warmed up to the subject. "Wouldn't come down until he ended up falling out of it thanks to some very excited squirrels."

"And they just kept laughing," Prussia grumbled, his mood diminishing as he felt his 'awesome' being undermined. "I swear to God Canada was actually _cackling_. Like a witch. I had every reason to be concerned."

"Sounds more like you were scared shitless," Germany inputted with a faint smile pulling at his lips.

Laughter all-around at the albino's expense, making the dinner's previously suspenseful atmosphere to brighten into something more palpable. A break that, just for a moment, allowed them to forget the real reason they were here, and how valid Prussia's grim fears really could have been.

* * *

 **YEEEES, I got to update this one guilt free, since I just put up the next chapter for TWMUTL as well. This story is honestly the one that I'm enjoying writing for the most (but I enjoy writing and sharing _all_ of my stories, of course).**

 **Thanks for the favs, follows, and reviews, everyone! PLEASE tell me what you think of this? I've rewritten it so many times that I'm second-guessing myself.**

 **Later dudes. ^J^**


	9. Chapter 9

England woke up refreshed and ready for the day-a rarity, but one should never count their blessings, as far as the island Nation was concerned. They had this nasty habit of disappearing into thin air whenever he did that.

He smelt breakfast cooking downstairs. England was immediately reminded him of the lone box of Earl Grey he'd seen in the pantry yesterday.

He glanced at his phone's screen, and saw that he had a text message from Norway.

 _To: Arthur Kirkland  
From: Lukas Bondevik_

 _I need a drop of Alfred's blood and water from where the Missouri River runs into the Mississippi River._

The former empire blinked at the strange request. He texted back:

 _To: Lukas Bondevik  
From: Arthur Kirkland_

 _Why on Earth would you need any of that?_

The reply was almost immediate, despite the time difference.

 _To: Arthur Kirkland  
From: Lukas Bondevik_

 _I may be able to help him._

* * *

As Germany stopped for a short break, his phone buzzed in his back pocket. He pulled it out and read the text, and felt his stomach plummet as he immediately realized the implications. Then he turned around; his morning jog was officially over. He needed to tell the others.

* * *

England entered the kitchen to see Canada making his (literally) world-famous pancakes, with Prussia hovering over his shoulder.

"It's really simple, Gil. Haven't I shown you how to do this, before?"

"I never get them right," the albino lamented. "You do something different-something that makes them _so_ much more awesome."

Canada shrugged as he ladled the creamy batter onto a hot pan. "Use maple syrup."

England coughed loudly. "Is the kettle on?"

The northern Nation nodded towards a second burner on his stove, which indeed had a warm kettle sitting on it. England crossed over to it with intent to serve himself. "Germany is doing his morning exercises, I assume?"

" _Ja_ , and Alfred is still asleep." Prussia glanced in the general direction of the upstairs bedrooms. "We're waking him up _after_ the coffee is done."

England sniffed disdainfully, raising his cup to his lips. "Deplorable addiction." Then he frowned. This wasn't Earl Grey, this was some sort of herbal tea! Surely Canada knew better?

"Says the man who nearly went mad over tea rationing."

"Lies and slander."

A sleepy chuckle. "He totally did. Tried to buy some in Maine using _pounds_. Then he had a conniption fit when the cashier told him off for it."

The coffee maker sitting on the counter _clicked_ , indicating that it was done. America shuffled over to it, taking a large mug down to drink from.

England took that as an opportunity to broach the subject. "This may sound strange, but may I please have a drop of your blood?"

America choked in surprise and coughed into his mug. Setting it down, his treated his former caretaker with the incredulous look he deserved. _"_ _What?"_

"A drop of your blood," England repeated. "I can send one of my faerie friends to get the river water."

"River water…and my blood," America repeated dubiously. "I honestly thought you couldn't _get_ any weirder, but this is like a new record."

"It's not for me," England grouched at him from behind his teacup. "It's for Norway. Says he can help you."

America thought about it for a long moment. Then he frowned as something occurred to him. "Aren't I _not_ supposed to give out my blood all willy-nilly? The movies say that's rule _numero uno_."

England's expression became an outright scowl. "Ordinarily that would be correct-though why you'd trust Hollywood over your own family is rather beyond me."

"I never said I didn't trust you," Alfred protested mildly.

"He means Norway," Canada called over his shoulder. "He is our uncle, after all. Even if he'd only just found out, we're all family. And if I know one thing about the Nordics it's that family is extremely important to them."

"Mmm…" America puffed out his cheeks like he always did when he was considering something that may or may not turn out extremely unpleasant depending on his choice. "Fine, I guess. You got a vial or somethin'?"

"Right here." England produced a small vial with a black screw cap.

"Of course you do, you creepy old man," America muttered more to himself, but loud enough for Prussia to snicker into his pancakes. The western Nation stole a knife from the block that sat on the counter and promptly made a small cut in his index finger. When the vial was half-full, England nodded, screwed the cap on, and placed it back in his pocket. He'd send it later.

America watched the small break in his skin heal itself. "See this weird shit right here is why I don't do magic."

"Say what you will about the magical arts, lad." England straightened his house robe and went for a second cup of tea. "But they may very well save your sanity."

America set down his mug, shifting uncomfortably. "Maybe…Hey, I'm not hungry right now, but save some of those for me. Do you have any American authors here, bro?"

"James Fenimore Cooper," Canada answered from the top of his head as he set the final batch of pancakes in some Tupperware. "Third shelf from the bottom."

For some reason, this made America smile. "Awesome. 'Scuze me while I seek out this literary perfection."

Just as he left, Germany came jogging in from the backdoor. He stopped to lean on the nearest counter, panting as though he'd been overexerting himself. At their collective confused looks he drew out his phone and tossed it on the counter.

"Argent Crowe is escaped from prison."

England immediately scowled. "You _said_ that your facility could hold him."

"The investigation is ongoing, but we suspect that he had help from the inside," Germany continued. "My chancellor has recalled me until such a time that Crowe is apprehended or killed." He gave his brother a pointed look. "That means you, too."

The albino rolled his eyes. "If he escaped from _that_ prison, then nowhere is safe. Tell the _Kanzler_ I said that when he asks why I'm not with you."

The Germanic Nation just sighed, unsurprised at the answer. "He won't be pleased."

"See if I care," the albino retorted. "A friend needs my help." His tone indicated an end to the matter.

Germany did not argue further, instead returning his attention to Canada and England. "I am sorry that I could not stay longer," he apologized formally.

"You're needed back in Europe," Canada shrugged. "There's nothing to be done for it."

"I want updates as to the manhunt for Crowe," England said. "I can't go to my government for it; they'd call me back as well the moment my location was revealed."

"I thought you were here with permission?"

A rebellious smirk, just barely hinting at the times that England had been something _other_ than a gentleman. "The Prime Minister is not as privy to my movements as you might think."

* * *

America was feeling pretty good after breakfast, all things considered. He was even able to disregard all that weird blood and river water hoodoo that England was spewing. That was until Prussia caught him alone in the living room.

"Hey there, Killer."

America was unable to completely contain his small flinch. "Can we not? I just ate."

"This isn't a vacation," Prussia reminded, completely unfazed. He plopped down on the couch, and leaned in such a way so that he was facing America with his arm propped up against the back of the couch. "What's it been…thirty-two hours, give or take a few?"

America leaned away. "Dude, I can feel your breath. Too close."

The albino carried on as though he hadn't heard, face still just six inches from his. "You feel it, huh? Pushing at you, making you want to do _bad_ things-"

"I suddenly have somewhere to be," America declared, standing up. "Members only, which means alone, which means fuck off."

Prussia's intent red eyes appraised him curiously. "This _is_ bothering you, huh?"

"I don't have to answer that," America threw back over his shoulder on the way out the door. He closed it firmly and sat down on the front porch steps. Hopefully Prussia could take the not-so-subtle hint.

The door creaked open again. America let his head drop in exasperation. "I _told_ you to leave me alone."

"I think you're confusing me with someone else."

America glanced back in apology before returning his attention to the road. "Oh."

He could hear the warning in Germany's voice. "Don't even think about it."

America tore his wistful gaze away from the empty road for the second time to regard Germany with a baleful look. "I wasn't."

"Right." Germany didn't sound all that convinced.

"The barrier keeps me here, anyways," America added defensively.

"Mmm."

Only then did America notice the suitcase. He frowned. "You leavin'?"

Germany shifted. "I am."

The western Nation stood. "Why? Did something happen?"

Another unspoken question hung in the air between them. _Is it because of me?_

"Crowe escaped," Germany answered grimly. "I've been recalled for security reasons. Otherwise I'd stay."

America released the breath he hadn't been aware of holding, and deflated. "Oh."

Germany held out a hand, which America shook firmly. "Don't let _mein bruder_ get into any more trouble," the European Nation warned. "I find him in jail often enough as it is."

The western Nation chuckled lightly, feeling a weight lift off of his shoulders. _'_ _At least nothing has changed between us. Even after he_ knows _.'_ "I'll try. But you know him."

A sigh. "Unfortunately." Then Germany eyed him pointedly. "You'll defeat this, and then I expect there to be no more of these _complications_. Understand?"

America blinked at the sudden change in tone, nodding mutely. He was rather afraid of what would happen if the stern Nation heard anything other than some variation of 'yes'.

This satisfied Germany, who had apparently filled his daily quota of companionable conversation and support. _"_ _Auf Wiedersehen."_ The Germanic Nation drew out the keys to his rental car, stepping smartly down the steps as he departed.

America watched him leave with both disappointment and relief. On one hand, an ally and tentative friend was leaving. On the other hand…

 _'_ _One less friend I might hurt when something goes wrong.'_

He glanced back at the house, reminding himself that he would have to go back in, eventually. He hadn't eaten, lately.

Not to mention that it was getting cold. A wintry breeze promising snow, ice, and utter misery on America's part in the face of his brother's weather.

 _'_ _So I can either endure everyone's poking and prodding at my psyche in the house, or I can freeze my ass off out here first before I'm_ dragged _inside.'_

The decision was made in record time. He went inside.

* * *

 **Another incredibly late night thanks to insomnia stemming from anxiety and nausea and other stupid things led me to putting the finishing touches on this chapter because I'd already finished that puzzle and that Agatha Christie book, so...yeah. Here you go.**

 **Thanks for the favs, follows, and reviews, everyone! They're truly appreciated. Tell me what you thought of this one before you leave, pretty please?**

 **Later dudes. ^J^**


	10. Chapter 10

"It's snowing," England noted, glancing outside.

"Bleagh," America muttered, turning a page in his book. "Someone turn on the heater."

"Wimp," Canada smirked from behind his magazine.

"Shaddup," the Western Nation shot back. "Not everyone can go skiing in a T-shirt." He made to stand up. "Imma go get a snack."

"No, you're not," Prussia declared, entering the living room. In his hands was a glossy DVD case, which he held high above his head for all to see. "We're going to watch a movie."

England glimpsed the title. "No we are _not_."

"Aw, are you afwaid of a wittle slasher film?" Prussia mocked.

"Slasher film?" America suddenly looked interested. "What's it called?"

 _"_ _My Bloody Valentine,"_ Canada read aloud. Then he frowned. "I agree with England. The last thing his other half needs is _ideas_."

Prussia rolled his eyes, looking at America. "Does watching actors pretend to be serial killers usually get to you, Alfred?"

"If that were true, I would have a lot more teeth," America defended, irritated that they would think him _that_ prone to suggestion. (And irritated with himself for fearing that they might be right.)

"You're _both_ being gits, now," England declared, standing to confiscate the movie. Prussia danced out of his reach, opening the case and inserting the disc into its corresponding slot in Canada's television before anyone could protest.

Canada sighed. "If you're _so_ insistent on watching this damn movie, then we should at least warn America about the-"

"No spoilers!" Prussia shushed eagerly, sitting down on the couch. "It's starting."

* * *

"Hey, Al?"

No answer.

"Aaaalfred."Prussia waved a hand in front of the unresponsive blond's face.

America jolted, regarded those in the room, and quickly departed before anyone else could get a word in.

"I think we scared him," Prussia declared.

Canada's lips were pressed together angrily. "I want you to stop."

As they got into an argument, England felt compelled to find wherever America had disappeared to. He eventually found the western Nation staring out the window at the end of the upstairs hall, as though mesmerized by the flurries of snow spiraling beyond the glass. Reluctant to break him out of this odd trance, the Englishman elected to stay back so as not to disturb.

It was a long while later before America finally stirred. He'd apparently sensed England's presence, however his mind was still clearly elsewhere. "I killed Russia on a day like this."

England kept silent, disturbed as he was at the strangely candid confession. He was acutely aware that what America would say next might be _important_. America continued in that same, distant voice.

* * *

 _"_ _I am surprised, Comrade." Russia stood back, holding the fresh gash in his side in a vain effort to stop the red droplets from splattering onto the pristine white snow. "My little visits do not typically merit a pickaxe." A deep, stuttering breath. For it was a large wound that would take some time to heal, and the blood loss was undoubtedly making it hard to stand. "You could get into a lot of trouble for this transgression,_ Amerika _."_

 _America stared down at the cold, barren ground under his feet. He'd tried to stop himself. Really, he had. But the pain etched into that bastard's face and laced into his voice…_ beautiful _._

 _Russia frowned, likely heeding an instinct telling him that_ Something Was Wrong Here _. "You seem different, today." Then he sounded almost cheerful as he inquired, "Are you sick?"_

 _America gripped the weapon in his hands, unable to recall when or where he'd picked it up. Now it felt right in his hands. Like this is what he was meant to be doing with it. He looked up to meet his opponent's-no, his_ victim's _eyes. Russia blinked._

'Fear. Fear apprehension and confusion and teeth as pure and bright as a Siberian winter…'

 _"_ _America…" Then, the Red bastard had the gall to_ smile _. "I see a bit of myself in you, today. Granted I'm not as…far gone."_

Angerangerangerhatekill **DIE!**

 _The Western Nation brought his pickaxe to bear on the Russian's head. Russia jumped back with surprising spryness for his large frame, avoiding the worst of the blow. But it still caught in his scarf-something that America was quick to take advantage of as he twisted, pulled his adversary close, tripped him, and left him face down on the ground. America grinded a knee hard into his back, grinning at the labored groan he got in return._

'I'm going to make this hurt. I'm going to make this hurt **a lot**.'

* * *

America shook his head violently to dispel bloody memories, turning away from the window. "You don't want to know what I did next."

As deeply troubled by his former colony's anecdote as he was, England made himself nod. "Thank you for…confiding in me, I suppose."

America looked at him, and the English Nation's stomach fluttered nervously. _'_ _I'm not afraid of Alfred. I'm_ not _. So why are my palms sweating?'_

A memory flashed involuntarily through England's mind. America, on the day of the kidnapping. His near-euphoric expression when Argent Crowe finally screamed. Those awful, savage red eyes framed by splatters of blood on shining lenses…

The western Nation was watching him. He looked…resigned. "I shouldn't have said anything. Now you're scared of me."

"Not of you," England corrected slowly, just coming to the realization himself. "But of what you might become if we are not very, _very_ careful."

* * *

America could be heard foraging in the kitchen. Prussia was just beyond the threshold, ready to go in with a devious smirk and a _plan_ for the unsuspecting blond Nation, only to be pulled back roughly by the collar and dragged into the nearby closet by a very threatening Englishman.

"Don't even think about."

Prussia rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to come _out_ of the closet, Eyebrows. Not bring other people in with you."

England didn't even bat an eye at his insinuation. "I just caught him _reminiscing_ about past victims. It's getting worse, and he's no more successful in suppressing his urges than he was before we pulled his drugs in the first place!"

 _"_ _I can see that,"_ Prussia hissed, emphasizing each syllable. "This problem has been going on for years, and escalates every damn day. He's _going_ to explode. So he might as well do it _now_ inside of a giant magical box surrounded by _semi-immortals_ instead of his capitol, or a political event, or a shopping center at Christmas time!"

England jaw went slack in disbelief. "I thought we agreed _not_ to induce an attack?" Then he shook his head. "We're here to help him _suppress_ his condition, not make it resurface at will!" He moved to storm out of the crowded, dusty closet. He needed to warn someone about this idiot albino before something bad happened-

"I never agreed to such a thing." Prussia bodily blocked him from leaving.

England's fists clenched. His voice was chill. "Move."

"Wait a minute, first!" Prussia almost pleaded. "Hear me out before you tell them."

"…Fine." England's eyes were narrowed. "Explain."

Prussia exhaled in relief. "Okay…You're right. He's _not_ getting any better. The longer he goes, the more irritable he gets. This isn't just a matter of banishing one or two violent thoughts now and then. This is more like a _need_. A scratch that he needs _desperately_ to itch, but knows he can't because…"

"Because it could hurt civilians," England finished, beginning to understand the ex-Nation's reasoning. "So you're saying he needs an outlet of some sort."

Prussia sighed. "For the record, I don't like it either. _So_ much can go wrong, here…But that pressure needs to find a vent, or else he's going to blow. And it won't be pretty. So if that means waiting around to get killed again to save innocent peoples' lives, then that's _exactly_ what I'm going to do."

"Canada's here," England reminded. "That rather puts a hole in your plans."

"On the contrary," Prussia said. "I think we'd _all_ like to see America stop himself if he's able. And if there's _anyone_ here that he doesn't want to hurt, it's Matthew. Which means we might still get out of this without having died."

* * *

Germany returned home to find Italy already there, unsurprisingly. However, he wasn't expecting to see the Italian's ill-tempered twin there as well, and with a glare of such intense anger that Germany was almost concerned.

Nor was the stern Nation expecting several other of his 'colleagues' to be there as well.

He took in his occupied living room with a tired sigh. He hadn't even set down his bags, and was suffering from a case of jet lag the likes of which he hadn't felt since the first time he traveled by plane between time zones. "Did something else happen?"

"Crowe has somehow gotten ahold on several Nations' personal phone numbers," Lithuania reported. "We've been getting some…rather disturbing messages."

"And you haven't been able to trace them?"

The unassuming Nation shook his head regretfully. "There's only so much we can do when the opponent calls cannot be decrypted. Even Estonia was stumped."

"He's become increasingly disturbed, if his messages are anything to go by," France added. "Lately he's been going on about getting revenge for something that…well frankly I didn't believe until Italy confirmed it."

Germany went rigid. He didn't need to ask what it was that Italy had divulged. He glanced coolly at his longtime friend, giving the clear message of, _'_ _We will discuss this later.'_

Italy ' _meeped'_ and shrank down into his seat.

"Why were we not immediately informed that the hamburger-bastard was _that_ fucked up in the head?" Romano demanded lowly, pulling his brother into a comforting hug. "That he was _dangerous_ and _sadistic_ and _getting worse_?"

"It was no one else's business," Germany answered, incensed. "The problem is being _handled_."

"I beg to differ," Russia chuckled from a shadowed portion of the room, making several Nations jump. When did _he_ get here? "None of you attended the last meeting. You are the only one to return. Tell me, has he harvested any more teeth for his collection? Are his mentor's body parts strung up over the porch, yet? Or perhaps his brother's body crucified on a tree? Is that irritating albino laying in a pool of his own-"

Germany felt his fists clench. "Shut. _Up._ Russia."

Italy whimpered. Romano muttered soft reassurances in Italian to him. France and Lithuania sucked in a breath almost simultaneously. Germany was a habitually cautious Nation. A great too many of the risks he'd taken in the past earned miserable consequences for him to be anything otherwise. So him standing up so directly to Russia was perhaps rather worrying.

But he was not going to be intimidated by the likes of Russia, today. Not when-

 _'_ _Wait a minute.'_

The Germanic Nation's eyes narrowed. "How do you know about the teeth?"

Russia just smiled that strangely menacing smile of his. "I believe I've said before that the Cold War was very… _enlightening_."

Lithuania shivered and, bless him, was brave enough to turn the conversation back to its original course. "But the fact remains that Argent Crowe is very much at large, and about to make his move." Then he frowned, as though something had occurred to him. " _None_ of you received any death threats or insults in North America?"

Germany shook his head.

"A limited range, then," France suggested. "He must be on this continent, somewhere. This at least narrows our search somewhat."

"Then let's get off our asses and catch the bastard," Romano said, standing up. "After we deal with this threat," he paused, his expression grim, "we can take care of the _other_ one.

* * *

 **Ta-daaaaa! A chapter!**

 **I've been writing when and where I can. But I have college and work and as TWMUTL is coming to a very important bit and the last two-thirds of the last season of A:TLA, I find myself a little overwhelmed and floundering for ideas. Big crossovers ain't easy, guys. And not for quitters, either.**

 **So here's something else again to prove that I'm still alive, well, and writing. PLEASE review and lemme know what you think!**

 **Later dudes. ^J^**


	11. Chapter 11

As Norway retrieved his things from the baggage claim, he glanced through the large glass windows of the airport. It was a good thing he'd beaten the weather here. It looked like snow near the mountains…

He was also glad to have gotten Canada's address from England beforehand, because his phone was out of battery. Typical first world problems…for his not-so-typical mission.

Nephews. He had _nephews_ that he didn't even know about, and they'd both been sitting right across the meeting table from him for years. Denmark was absolutely over the hills with joy. He expects the others will be too when they finally learn about it, but Norway had his reservations still.

They had not gotten the opportunity to watch them grow. When the colony fell on hard times, Vinland disappeared. They'd assumed too quickly that she had been killed. That, along Erikson's tragic end, had Denmark declare it best they return home and forget the treacherous continent for good.

But she hadn't died, had she? She'd grown enough to bear children before she was gone. Leaving the twins alone and without their biological family. So both America and Canada ended up being raised by… _other_ people. Natives and Englishmen and Frenchmen.

Norway didn't know how to react to that. Was it wrong to feel a little bit responsible even if almost a thousand years too late? And why did they not make this known sooner?

When the Nordic Nation finally got out of the airport, he breathed in, tasting the foreign-yet-distantly familiar crisp air. At least they'd taken the first step, even if in less than preferable circumstances.

* * *

 _It was a beautiful spring day somewhere in the northern United States. Canada and America were hunting together for the first time in years, rebuilding a relationship they'd both thought irreparable not too long ago._

 _The silence between them was comfortable, boots barely disturbing the rocks, roots, and twigs underfoot._

 _America stopped them with a hand, and pointed. An impressive white-tailed buck was grazing just up ahead._

 _Canada shouldered his rifle, aimed, and-_

 _The creature's head and tail perked up. It'd heard something. The thing was off before the Northern Nation could pull the trigger._

 _America sniggered lightly as Canada berated himself for his rookie mistake-however unsure he was as to what that mistake had been, exactly._

 _"_ _Where's it headed?" Canada inquired under his breath. His brother would know, after all._

 _"_ _The-…" America trailed off, an odd expression on his face. "…Actually, this one's mine. Hold my gun."_

 _"_ _Wha-" Canada juggled the weapon briefly as it was shoved into his arms. He blinked in further confusion as America drew out his hunting knife and was_ gone _._

 _For a long moment, Canada just stared at the section of brush that both the fleeing deer and his oddball of a brother had disappeared through. Then he sighed, put both rifle slings over his shoulder, and began to track them._

'Might as well see what he thinks he's doing.'

 _The trees soon receded, giving way to an idyllic meadow of white flowers still fresh and pristine in the first days of spring. He'd caught up just in time to see his America close on the deer at lightning speed, knife flashing and lips pulled back in a predatory grin that acted as an extreme contrast to their surroundings. The buck snorted and kicked back, but America was already in front of it, grabbing it by the antlers and fatally stabbing it with a vicious thrust of his knife, followed by a harsh twist._

 _Matthew looked away, however was unable to erase the image of bloodied white flowers. Or that strange glint in his sibling's eye as he surveyed the carcass. "If you're done, we should probably get back to the cabin soon if the meat's going to be at all usable."_

 _America snapped back into reality, glancing between the bloodied knife in his hands, and the deceased deer. His expression turned sheepish. "Right. Let me just pack this up, first."_

* * *

 _Night had fallen, the deer had been dressed, and their weapons were clean. Now it was just a matter of sharing a companionable silence huddled around the campfire. But for some reason, Canada was still inexplicably uneasy._

 _"_ _You're staring at me."_

 _Canada blinked, and then shrugged. "Sorry."_

 _America just rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the fire, throwing things into it just to see what they would do. Canada resumed his observation of his brother, and how the fire played against his half-shadowed form._

 _When had his brother become such an enigma? True, it's been a_ long _time since they'd truly spoken to each other. They'd both changed and grown in their own ways during the intervening years. Enough so that they were still getting used to each other again-trying to identify each other's boundaries, quirks, and tendencies._

 _But certain changes…certain changes Canada worried about._

 _Still emotionally closed. Not in any way that anyone would typically detect, but Canada had always been good at reading people. He_ knew _when a smile wasn't real, and America's promise to be totally candid hadn't gone very far. Canada had seen almost from the beginning that something was_ bothering _his brother, and that it was important enough to cross his mind almost every day. But despite everything Roosevelt and several others had done to help draw him out in the past months, he had no intention of revealing it._

 _And sometimes America would get this odd_ look _. Something dark and unnatural that chilled Canada in a way that no northern winter ever could. It made him wonder if those years in isolation really_ had _done something to his brother's mind_ _._

 _"_ _You're scaring me, now."_

 _It was as though someone had taken the words right out of his mouth. Canada began to nod in agreement, before coming to himself and realizing who was talking. "O-oh…Sorry."_

 _"_ _You say that too much," Alfred decided with a chuckle. His gaze turned mockingly seductive, his voice overly sultry. "Like what you see?"_

 _Canada snorted lightly, tossing a pebble at his twin. "You wish."_

 _America laughed again._

* * *

Canada awoke abruptly to the sound of footsteps creaking on the wood floor just outside of his room.

 _'_ _It's probably just someone going to the bathroom.'_

Kumajirou abruptly raised his head, stared at the bedroom door, and began to growl.

The northern Nation immediately snapped up, sleepiness and irritation receding in favor of alarm and worry. There was only one reason Kuma would be growling right now.

Then he heard a very particular set of squeaks, indicating that this someone was going down the stairs. The knot forming in Canada's gut told him that it wasn't for a glass of water.

He swung his legs over the bed, stood up, and stepped into a pair of slippers all in one smooth movement. "Stay here," he ordered the bear tersely, leaving his door open behind him.

He crept down the stairs silently, ears straining to catch any other sounds that this person might make. He was rewarded with the rumble of his back sliding glass door opening.

Canada hurried to the kitchen, and then to his porch. "Wait, Alfred!"

The western Nation paid him no heed, making his way across the lightly snow-blanketed yard in a peculiarly graceless shamble.

He was going towards the shed.

Canada broke into a sprint. Yes, he'd alarmed and locked it, but that wouldn't stop Alfred from simply breaking the door down to get to the heavy and edged implements he undoubtedly had in mind. "Al, stop!"

America touched the shed door, and pulled on the handle. It didn't open. Then he raised his fist-

The northern Nation frantically tackled his brother to the wet ground. America's half-lidded eyes snapped open, fleeting crimson flashing across his irises before he grunted and bodily rolled his brother off of him. He sat up, and looked around, bleary blue eyes showing obvious confusion in the moonlight. "…What the hell?"

Canada released the breath he hadn't been aware of holding. His brother was okay…now. "You mean you don't know?"

"I don't." America stood with a yawn, helping his brother to his feet as well. "I last remember going to bed."

Canada briefly debated telling America what had happened, and what he was doing…but then decided against it. "You were sleepwalking. That's all."

"Oh." The wind whistled, causing America to shiver. The snow had made his clothes wet. "Weird, that's usually more your thing. Let's go back inside, then." He yawned loudly as he added, "I'm still tired."

Canada nodded, trying not to remember the contents of his dream before he'd woken up, and not panic at how terrifyingly _close_ it'd come to disaster tonight. He'd have to inform the others in the morning.

* * *

 _America froze, the stick he'd been using to rouse the embers falling from his hands._

 _"_ _Alfred?" Canada waved a hand in front of his face. "You alright?"_

 _When the western Nation didn't immediately respond, Canada felt his worry heighten._

 _America's head and neck did this odd sort of twisting motion-like a snake, almost. "Go back to the cabin."_

 _"_ _Wha-"_

 _"_ _Go_ back _to the_ cabin _," America repeated insistently, twitching. "Lock the door, and_ stay there _. I'll be back in the morning. Probably."_

 _Canada stood, genuinely alarmed at his brother's sudden change in behavior. His hairs stood on end, his instincts suddenly screaming at him that something dangerous was nearby._

 _"_ _Alfred," the northern Nation took a deep, composing breath, yet was unable to quell or even fully understand his body's reaction. "What's going on?"_

 _America quickly doused the fire with a bucket of water, plunging them into darkness. "Quickly! There's not much time. I-I feel it…"_

"…America?"

 _His only answer was a frantic set of retreating footsteps and rustling brush. America was gone, and oddly enough, so was Canada's gut feeling that something was about to go very wrong._

'Maybe that thing's following him?'

 _The woods were silent. No bugs, small animals, or even rustling leaves could be heard around him. It was as though the land itself waited with bated breath for things to pass, and hopefully do so harmlessly. Canada briefly wondered if he should take his brother's advice, and do the same._

 _But he couldn't, in good conscience, stand aside and let his brother deal with…whatever was out there. All he had was a hunting knife; immense strength would only go so far in the face of certain foes._

 _And Alfred had looked scared…really,_ really _scared._

 _Canada wasn't going to let things lie as they were. He took up his rifle from where it leaned against a nearby log, and used the dim moonlight to track his brother for the second time so many hours._

 _America had been careless in his haste, leaving a very obvious trail. A broken twig here, a thrashed shrub there, even an occasional boot print._

 _Canada began to worry as he got farther from the cabin. America moved fast when he wanted to. What if he was too late for...whatever the hell was happening?_

 _The violet-eyed Nation slowed when he spotted something lying among some destroyed plants-as though there'd been a struggle. The coppery sent of blood pervaded his nose as Canada stopped to inspect the thing._

 _It was a mountain lion-one of many that infested the area. Though one wouldn't know that from the awkward angles of its limbs, or its shredded torso._

 _Canada stood up and squeezed his eyes shut briefly to get that gruesome image out of his head. Good Lord, what could do this?_

 _He kept moving, his trigger finger twitching occasionally against the side of his rifle. America was around here somewhere, he knew. The trail was getting fresher by the minute. But the_ thing _that'd mutilated that lion was out here somewhere, too._

 _It wasn't until he glimpsed water that he spotted a human-looking shadow with a familiar cowlick facing off against another mountain lion by a small creek. There must've been a pride of them roaming about the area._

 _Canada was unable to call out before the creature snarled and pounced, which America answered with an equally feral snarl as he took the thing's jaws and forced them open wide enough to split its skull. Then he threw the weakly protesting lion to the ground, and began to brutally stab it repeatedly in the chest with his knife._

 _"_ _Alfred!"_

 _The American stopped at the sound of his brother's appalled voice, breathing heavily as he slowly stood up, and pried the knife from the dead mountain lion's ribcage._

 _Canada started forward. "What in God's name are you_ doing _?"_

 _America didn't answer, his blood-splattered form twitching in the moonlight. Canada searched his brother's features, looking for recognition, or realization, or anything even remotely familiar._

 _Then he stopped, and took a step back. Unease gnawed at him, telling him to get away, get away,_ GET AWAY _._

 _Red eyes narrowed sharply, gleaming with madness and an eerie sort of Something Else that made Canada consider in the back of his mind that maybe shooting his brother might be the safer option, here._

 _A spasm wracked America's body as he took a step forward, knife gripped tightly in hand._

 _"_ _No closer or I'll shoot!" Canada warned, refusing to let his voice shake as he took a step back. God, this shouldn't even be happening! "Something's…not right in your head, Al. Put the knife down so we can talk about it. Please."_

 _America began to twitch again, and the knife fell to the ground with a soft_ thump _when he doubled over. Canada's relief was premature, however, as the western Nation stopped, his lips pulling into a sadistic smirk as he straightened to his full height. He charged and knocked the gun from Canada's hands, pinning him to the ground._

'This isn't my brother,' _Canada thought frantically as he began to struggle_. 'This _can't_ be my brother. My brother wouldn't do this.'

 _"_ _A-Alfred!" He wrestled against the hands going for his neck, but America had the advantage of strength, and the knee on Canada's chest was making it hard to breathe. "Alfred, snap out of it!"_

 _He saw an opening, and took it. He rolled, pushing his brother off and away from him as he lurched to his feet. America's teeth gnashed in anger as he snarled and charged again, single-mindedly determined to reacquire his victim. However Canada was ready for him this time, sidestepping and pushing him up against a tree. He then backhanded his disturbed brother across the face._ Hard.

 _America twitched, briefly sagging against the rough bark of the tree. His eyes were blue again, however frantic. "Go away! I-I can't-" Another twitch. America gripped his head with a pained grunt. "_ _ **Kill**_ _-no, don't-I-I…can't-"_

 _Canada took his brother's shoulders. "You can stop this. You_ will _stop this. Understand? Can you hear me?"_

 _America pushed him away and shook his head violently, fighting it. "No-goaway_ _ **die**_ _nofuck…"_

 _"_ _I'm right here," Canada said firmly._

 _The Western Nation shook, eyes flashing crimson, threatening to tip him back over the edge, promising violence for the one trying to make him stop._

 _"_ _You don't need to do this, anymore." Canada risked a tight embrace, ignoring the smell of blood and exertion. "I'm right here."_

 _America jolted abruptly at the touch, his rumbling growl petering out into a strained sort of sigh. They stayed like that for a long while, even as America quivered and tensed at random intervals, and sometimes even seemed close to losing himself again. Canada held tight, determined to keep his brother's mind from flying apart at the seams._

 _The sky was just beginning to lighten when America's body finally relaxed, his voice holding an entirely different kind of tension, now. "You can let go."_

 _Canada did so. The twins stared at each other for a long, awkward moment._

 _"_ _I-I'm sorry." America looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "You shouldn't have…had to deal with that."_

 _"_ _Nonsense," the northern Nation said. "_ You _shouldn't have felt the need to keep it from me."_

 _America stared. Canada bit back a sigh. He'd clearly been alone for far too long. "We're_ brothers _, Alfred. Brothers help each other. Lend a hand or an ear when one of them has a problem."_

 _Alfred just stared at him some more, unsure of what to say or how to respond. Canada could see that they had a long way to go before they could overcome almost a century of estrangement._

* * *

 **I'm sore as hell and I can't sleep. This winning combination essentially boils down to me writing. Which means sneaking some of that chocolate cake that mother just made...muahahahaha. Silver lining, amirite?**

 **Thanks for the attention, guys! Review and tell me what you think of this chapter and the story in general, please? Please, please, please?**

 **Later dudes. ^J^**


	12. Chapter 12

"Hey there, Killer!" Prussia called from the table as America shuffled into the kitchen the next morning.

"Mm." The western Nation barely acknowledged him, fumbling with the strawberry jam to spread on his toast.

"Long night?" England queried, concern clouding his brow.

"Yeah." America turned away from the counter, toast and coffee in hand, and exited the kitchen without even a backwards glance.

Canada sighed. America had never been a great morning person (especially since he was introduced to coffee). But his worsening condition, along with last night's escapade, was likely amplifying the issue.

"Well he's chatty this morning," Prussia noted offhandedly. "Care to fill us in, Birdie?"

"Alfred was sleepwalking," the northern Nation answered promptly. He wasn't going to bother keeping things from them. He'd been doing it long enough to know that it wouldn't solve anything. "He tried to get into the toolshed."

The reaction was immediate. England sucked in a breath. "I'm not sure I want to know what he had in mind."

"We'll find out soon enough," Prussia muttered under his breath, earning a sharp look from Canada.

It didn't take long for England to break under the pressure, despite the fact that Canada's steady look wasn't even directed at him. Canada could be downright _scary_ when he wanted to be. "He still wants to push America into an attack."

Canada's lips became a thin, angry line. "No."

"But-"

"No."

"It's-"

"No, Prussia," Canada cut him off frigidly. "It's too dangerous."

"Have you stopped to consider that perhaps it might be _more_ dangerous to let it build up inside of him until he explodes?" Prussia returned, voice raising several notches.

"That's not what's happening here," the Northern Nation maintained defensively. "It's just an…urge. One that he can _control_ if we help rather than hinder him!"

Prussia snorted. "There's not been a whole lot of control on his part, Birdie. He's hair-trigger and about to blow. I wouldn't be surprised if it happens _today_."

"Are you suggesting we let him kill us?!" Canada demanded, hands held firmly at his sides in his agitation. "Don't you realize what will happen if he manages to kill us-which damn your pride, is more than likely since it's just us against a _deranged superpower_ -and his other half sees us wake up?"

Prussia's retort died on his lips, his mind working through the implications. Then he cursed. "I didn't think about that."

"Perhaps not," England said hopefully, carefully. "He's killed a Nation before; he never said he did it twice in a row."

"That was when he could _leave_ ," Canada pointed out, looking at both of them as if they'd grown second heads for even making this argument necessary. "His disease has been getting stronger over the past few decades, and there's a giant barrier preventing him from seeking more victims. He's going to get _bored_ before he regains control. Then he'll murder us all over again-who knows how many times." The northern Nation sighed sadly, and shook his head. "We can't allow him to let go, because he may never come back to us."

* * *

America had a headache.

He'd walked into the living room, set down his food, and was hit with a sudden pressure in his head that was just getting worse and worse and _refused to go away_.

The light was too bright. He could hear an argument in the kitchen. Kumajirou had awoken from his slumber on the couch and was growling at him again for some reason.

 _'_ _Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up…'_

The argument became even louder, reverberating off the walls.

 _"_ _I wouldn't be surprised if it happens_ today _!"_

 _"_ _Are you suggesting we let him_ kill _us?"_

America clapped his hands over his ears, gut wrenching in self-loathing. _'_ _I would never hurt you, Mattie. I_ wouldn't _.'_

A smaller voice in his head made itself known, unsure and afraid. _'…_ _Right?'_

 _"_ _-because he may never come back to us."_

America scowled, wishing he had earplugs. Or silence. Or blessed _solitude_. Anything to stop hearing these things. Kumajirou promptly jumped off the couch and went to stand in front of the kitchen door in a curiously defensive stance. He continued to growl.

"Oh, shaddup," the blond returned with an irritable snarl of his own. His vision went strange for a moment, his senses oddly amplified as the room began to tilt. He stumbled and fell to his knees as a familiar crawling sensation began at the base of his spine and travelled up towards his head. The argument ceased abruptly, footsteps pounding into the room. The pressure in his head worsened as voices rang painfully in his ears.

"Alfred, what happened?"

"What's wrong with you?"

 _'_ _Too loud.'_

"Kumajirou, behave!"

 _'_ _Very_ _ **annoying**_ _.'_

"Alfred?"

* * *

 _Twitch._

That was the only warning given before America leapt up and wrapped his hands around the nearest throat. This one happened to be Prussia's. A dark chuckle chilled the room, sounding closer to a predatory hiss.

"No, Alfred!" Canada darted forward and punched his brother in the jaw, shocking him into loosening his iron grip. England wrenched Prussia free of the western Nation and immediately got clear.

America loosed a strangled little gasp, staggering back. His expression was one of abject horror. "Matt…did I just…?"

The Canadian felt sick. He nodded.

"This-" Prussia coughed, "just proves my theory. You can't keep it in. Hell, I don't think anyone could. It'll just get _worse_ the longer this goes on."

"Then there's nothing we can do," England said bleakly, hands hanging limp by his sides. "All of this was for nothing."

"I-I need to leave," America said shakily. "It's still there. And you're still _here_ and I want…I want…" He trailed off, eyes unfocused.

 _Smack!_

England's resounding slap echoed faintly throughout the room. But it did its job, as America was brought back into lucidity. He twitched ever-so-slightly, his tone gaining a frantic edge. "I need to go."

"You're not going anywhere until this is over and done with," Prussia declared resolutely. "Stop giving up on yourself, because we sure as hell aren't." He looked to his doubtful compatriots with the air of a commander. "It's time for Plan B."

"Plan B?"

"You don't know Plan B because I'm making it up as I go along. England, can you do another barrier like the one around the property, except smaller?"

"It won't be as strong," England warned. "And it certainly won't knock him out. I had significantly more time to prepare the large one than the one you suggest."

Prussia accepted this, shoving Canada towards his twin. "Take him out back. We'll be right there."

The northern Nation nodded, and took his brother by the shoulders to steer him towards the back door. As soon as they were gone, Prussia made a beeline towards the kitchen. England, unsure of what else to do, followed. The albino dove into the pantry, rummaging about for something.

"Where did I-aha!"

He withdrew his prize and wasted no time in opening it. England glimpsed its label: _Bigelow Earl Grey black tea_. Prussia tossed the now empty box away, and shook a very familiar pill bottle. "Knew he wouldn't touch it," the ex-Nation explained smugly. He opened the lid and-

-and his phone rang. The albino scowled, digging into his pocket with his free hand. He read the screen, cursed, and showed the text to England.

 _To: Gilbert Beilshmidt  
From:_ _Ludwig Beilshmidt_

 _Feli told. Everyone knows. Crowe's messages becoming violent. Watch yourself._

And that was it. No details whatsoever. But Germany's terse message did the job well enough. Prussia snapped the lid shut on the medicine, placing the entire thing on the counter. "Plan B just changed again. Destroy these."

England pulled out his wand, but found himself hesitating. "What if he needs them?"

"He won't," Prussia answered flatly. "Not anymore. We apparently don't have time for that."

The island Nation grimaced, but understood. A wordless little flourish of his wand and a flash of orange light was all that was needed to disintegrate the thing into fine ash. "Pray to God that this works."

* * *

America began pacing agitatedly as soon as he was outside. Canada tried to go to him, but America immediately shied away.

"No, Matthew. I don't-" He twitched, and swallowed dryly. "I don't trust myself."

" _I_ trust you," Canada said. "You've never hurt me, and I've witnessed several episodes from you. And you _never_ -"

"It was too close," America interjected sharply. "Too close, every time." He stopped pacing, clutching his head and trembling. "I want to kill. Kill, kill, kill, kill, **KILL**!"

Canada resisted the instinctive urge to retreat as his twin's voice briefly gained that disturbing undertone that sent chills down victims' spines. Running wouldn't help anything.

America's breath hitched. "No…nononono not again… _please_ , not again."

"We'll be fine," Canada said determinedly. "Because you're better than this, and the rest of us are smart enough to not get killed either way. Right?"

Another twitch. America stumbled back further. "I-It…"

Prussia ran across the yard towards them, England in tow. "How much longer?"

As though to answer his question, America dropped to his knees with a frantic cry. _"_ _Do it now!"_

England needed no further prompting. He made circular motions with his wand, muttering something to himself in a language that was likely long dead. Wide bands of violet energy burst from the tip of his wand and moved to wrap themselves around the American's hunched form.

The result was a high barrier, enclosing about seven square feet of space, within which America loosed a strangled gasp, and seemed to abruptly relax his tight hold on himself.

In the tense silence that ensued, Canada took a hesitant step towards the barrier. "Alfred…?"

 _SLAM!_

Canada jumped back despite himself. America pounded against the barrier again, scarlet eyes blazing.

England gritted his teeth. "Talk to him-get him to stop hitting it!"

A frustrated snarl tore through the night air as America struck the barrier once more. England gasped audibly with the effort it was taking to keep the thing up.

"This isn't right," Prussia muttered. "He's not even fighting it."

"Alfred," Canada called desperately, "Alfred, I know you're in there."

The crazed Nation began prowling impatiently within the confines of his prison, paying no apparent heed.

"Hurry up," England managed, beginning to show obvious strain.

Prussia's expression became hard, and grim. He took several long strides right up to the barrier, his nose almost touching the translucent wall. He slammed an open palm against the thing, and America's gaze snapped up to meet his. The ex-Nation ignored his instincts screaming at him, the ones telling him to stop being an idiot and get away. "You're better than this. I know it, your family knows it, and even _your_ crazy ass knows it. But the rest of the world doesn't. Your secret is _out_ , Alfred. They think that this is all that defines you, and are gonna lock you up for it. Just like this!"

 _Twitch_. Sinister crimson eyes narrowed in anger at his words.

"It's all but decided, now," Prussia continued, his words low and intense. "And the only thing you're doing right now is proving them _right_."

America shook his head violently, clapping his hands over his ears as if to block out the truth of those words.

* * *

Norway drove up to the property, feeling the nearly intangible barrier close behind him as he passed through in his car. It felt like one of England's workings.

When he parked and got out of the car, however, he noticed something else.

The woods were completely silent. This late at night, and at this time of year when all the animals were scrambling for last minute hibernation fuel? Positively unheard of.

He heard a faint yell coming from somewhere around the back of the house. Something was happening, but Norway wasn't quite finished with his aid, yet. He jogged up to the house, tripped the lock with a wave of his hand, and ducked inside.

* * *

Canada wrung his hands worriedly. At this rate, he'd lose his brother for good. "Please, Alfred."

America faced away from them, a shiver wracking his frame before he loosed a savage yell and punched the barrier one last time with all his strength.

England managed a small, breathy curse before collapsing in apparent exhaustion. The barrier faded into nonexistence.

The newly freed maniac lurched in an unbalanced turn to face them again. An insane grin practically split his face in two as his murderous gaze gravitated to England's vulnerable form.

Canada could guess what his brother was thinking. He moved to block his way, arms flung out to prevent the American from passing. "Don't do this, Alfred."

The western Nation froze mid-step. His hands clenched and unclenched, as though yearning to rend something apart. His head was cocked oddly to the side.

"I know you can beat this. You just have to make yourself _want_ it."

America spasmed, his low and deadly rumble cutting off abruptly. He'd heard, and some part of him was finally paying _attention_.

Canada slowly reached out-he was close enough to touch now, though he didn't recall ever closing the distance between them. His fingers found the fur of America's jacket, which he gripped in an effort to anchor his brother. "Come back to me."

The American choked, taking Matthew's wrist in both hands as though it were a lifeline. A twitch sent desperate blue flashing across his irises. "M-Matt, I-" He grunted, and froze abruptly, his expression falling completely blank.

Canada glanced sidelong at Prussia. "Take England inside, and lock the doors."

"But-"

 ** _"_** ** _LEAVE!"_** America practically roared, ending any and all protests from the albino who immediately knelt to take England's prone form by the shoulders, and drag him back towards the house.

Once again in the grip of his affliction, America made to follow. Canada held on tighter. "No, Alfred."

That menacing smile returned, seeming all too eager. "You should have left."

When he was lifted by the throat clear off the ground, Canada didn't fight to get loose. Instead he glared down at his southern twin with all the reproving and determined anger he could muster. "I'm not going _anywhere_."

His attacker paused, considering Canada's words.

"…Stupid." America eventually grunted, as though both confused and dismayed. "Stupid, stupid, _stupid_."

Matthew couldn't answer, as the grip around his windpipe became tighter, and it became harder to breathe.

 _'_ _He's going to kill me.'_

This thought was not a new one. It'd nearly happened before, after all. But it was still different this time. America's crimson red eyes were wet with tears, and his gritted teeth ground against each other as though he were struggling.

 _'_ _He'll never forgive himself.'_

Matthew was so certain this time. This would be the day that Alfred crossed his own line. Which was why he was surprised when he found himself dropped onto the ground again. He put a hand to his nose and mouth, and came away with blood. Grimacing, he spit into the melting remnants of snow on the ground. It was too close-a few more seconds and he would've been gone.

America backed away as though he had the plague. "Why won't you run?!" he demanded. "I'll **hurt** you!"

"Because I want to help you," the Canadian answered firmly, yet cautiously. They were entering uncharted territory, now. "Just like the side of you that would rather help people than hurt them."

"B-but I…" His expression fell slack once again. He staggered. "Matthew…"

Canada was there when America stumbled forward, and fell to his knees. He held him tightly, determined to remain there for as long as it took for his brother to stop. Just like he had so many years ago.

A soft sob finally escaped his lips. "I don't want to hurt you."

* * *

Norway looked up just as Prussia stumbled in with an unconscious England draped over his shoulders. The small object floating in the bowl before him glowed a brief, brilliant blue. It was finally done.

"Look who decided to _show up_ ," the albino Nation growled under his breath. He dropped England in a chair and turned to regard Norway fully. "You're late."

"I needed time to craft this." Norway displayed it for emphasis.

Prussia eyed it suspiciously. "Took you long enough for a trinket like that…You sure it'll help?"

"For now. Until I can sit him down with a tattoo needle." Norway stood up. "Where is he?"

Prussia thumbed in the general direction of the backdoor. "He's out there trying not to kill his own brother. You should hurry."

Norway nodded to the unusually gruff and hostile Prussia before taking the object and making towards the backyard.

What he found when he stepped out onto the porch lifted a weight from his shoulders that he hadn't realized was there before.

Both brothers were on their knees in the moonlight, America's face pressed into his brother's neck while Canada used a free hand to wipe some blood from his mouth. And that was the only blood in sight, which meant that no one was dead. He ran to the pair, and knelt before them. "I should've been here for you sooner."

Canada's gaze slid over to Norway. He looked exhausted. "It's okay…it's harder to travel when winter is so close."

 _'_ _That's not what I meant.'_ But Norway did not say this. There would be time for that, later.

Tentatively, he took America's left hand. The western Nation did not react until he slipped the beaded twine bracelet over wrist. The small runes painted on each bead flashed blue as America snapped out of his brother's embrace and gripped his wrist as though in pain. " _Gah_ , what the fuck?!"

At Canada's questioning/alarmed look, the Norwegian explained, "It'll do that when he's about to have an attack. Freezes it into submission."

America hissed painfully and tucked his hands under his arms, falling over sideways. _"_ _Cooooooold."_

"And what about now?" Canada watched his brother writhing on the ground with an expression of consternation as the two northern Nations got to their feet.

"He just had an attack, didn't he?" Norway questioned rhetorically by way of explanation. "This just means it's still close to the surface. The trolls said to expect this."

Canada blinked. "So you essentially put a magical shock collar on my brother."

"That is a very simple way of putting it," Norway allowed. "But close enough."

America fell limp, shivering slightly. The bracelet's fey cobalt light faded from the runes, becoming inert as their job was completed. Glazed sky blue eyes regarded the adornment with some resentment. "Can I ever take this off?"

Both Norway and Canada answered with a resounding unanimous, "No," to which America slumped dejectedly.

"Fucking _magic_ …"

* * *

 **I'M SORRY I SWEAR I'VE BEEN WORKING ON _THAT WHICH MAKES UP THE LAND_. But I've only got like 1,500 words done for that chapter because I have classes and obligations and blah, blah, blah, but I already had this pretty much written so here it is.**

 **In other news, I maced myself in the leg. I'm never carrying pepper spray again, I'd rather just wait the two and a half years to get a conceal carry permit because guns have safeties and don't leak.**

 **Thanks for all the favs, follows, and reviews, as always! They're greatly appreciated-especially now that my email is more filled with bank statements and college fees/assignments than anything else. Like little bright spots...Please, please, please tell me what you thought in a review? Pleeeeaaaaaaase?**

 **Later dudes. ^J^**


	13. Chapter 13

The following morning was probably the most uncomfortable breakfast America had ever experienced.

Norway had explicitly forbid him from taking the bracelet off until they had time for some kind of elaborate tattoo that would replace it. He still hadn't come up with an excuse to tell people as to _why_ he was all of a sudden wearing weird Viking jewelry.

He idly played with the rough twine, not quite looking at the Nations sitting around the table. The awkwardness was palpable and miserable, but still no one was saying anything. So America decided to swallow his embarrassment with the last of his food and break the ice. "So…problem solved?"

"Almost." England stood up, his own plate apparently forgotten. "There is one more thing we must do before I lower the barrier."

America frowned, but followed England into the living room. From the corner of his eye he saw the others following behind him. The island Nation drew his wand from midair, and flicked it at the cold fireplace, causing it to roar to life with a strange fire that needed no kindling. Then he turned and dropped something into America's hand.

America looked down, and jolted mentally. "These are…"

"It's time to get rid of them," England informed evenly. "No more of this."

Rubbing the pad of his thumb over the old black cord, he felt a terribly familiar crawling sensation that started at the base of his spine and travelled upwards, making him twitch. Then ice sank into the veins of his left wrist like intangible fangs. His nerves felt overloaded for a moment, and then the crawling sensation faded. The cold eased away, and then he only felt the four pairs of eyes on him, their suspicion, and their worry.

America bundled the necklace of teeth into a ball and threw them into the flames. He took a deep breath, and exhaled loudly. "No more."

* * *

Cursed.

Cursed, is what they called him. For going after those beings that were barely rumors yet still altogether feared. Indeed, his nightmares seemed to indicate as such.

Organization gone, backers gone, contacts all but diminished, and paralyzed from the waist down all because of one botched job. One target that he hadn't known enough about.

He still had nightmares about it.

Indeed it seemed to be that way. Like he was cursed.

But there was no such thing as curses, he was certain.

Just men…and monsters.

His phone beeped at him softly, interrupting his reverie. It was a throwaway, one of the many that he'd been utilizing lately. He opened the latest message.

 _[Signal acquired. Ontario, Canada]_

He smiled. Someone from Europe had finally contacted the ones in North America. He'd been right to infect those text messages with spyware. Now he had a good idea as to where they were.

One in particular, whom he was eager to meet again.

But first he needed a plan. And preparation.

He wasn't going to go into another situation blind.

* * *

 **IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT-**

 **This may be the end of the story, but it's not the end of the plot. This is all** ** _far_ ****from over, so don't worry. Questions need to be answered, characters need to develop, and most importantly, ANGSTY FAMILY FLUFFIES MUST HAPPEN. This ending doesn't exactly please me with its abruptness, but it's not _really_ an ending, so...meh? Look out for the ****_SEQUEL_** **, which I will be posting as soon as I can. (Turns out I can't squeeze it all into just one story. But that's not for lack of trying!)**

 **So what's your final verdict of part one? Tell me in a review!**

 **Later dudes. ^J^**


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